If he had stayed
by 9veryoriginalname9
Summary: What would have happened if Clay had stayed? T for language and discussion of mental illness.
1. Chapter 1

All the disclaimers and a treatise on this work (read until 6 at least before you skip to the story). Story is functionally done. Just fixing egregious grammar/spelling mistakes.

1\. I have only seen the tv show which does not belong to me (beginning bits in _italics_ are lifted verbatim)

2\. I stopped after episode 11 to process and processing turned into writing this. I'm not going to watch the rest.

3\. I haven't written fiction in a VERY long time so I pretty much apologize for everything (style, dialogue, pacing…etc). You have been warned.

4\. I have not hung out with high schoolers in a long time (youth group advisor) and the last time I was a high schooler was a VERY long time ago so writing in the voice of a teenager is not easy for me. I am not up on lingo at all so they will mostly be speaking as if they are teenagers in the aughts but with cell phones.

5\. I decided to give Clay what he wanted to say (within reason, he's 17) and let it snowball from there. What would have changed had Clay stayed? What would have been different? What was fated? Who is ultimately responsible? This makes it sound like this is a much bigger and better work of fiction than what you have in front of you.

6\. I don't think the attention from an average looking white boy would have solved all of Hannah's problems. She's still dealing with some sort of mental illness and severe bullying.

7\. The reason one writes fanfiction is because they feel like something is missing from the original art or there is an idea that hasn't been explored. One of my favorite authors wrote some beautiful twilight fiction (a series I find deeply problematic though had to read during a summer job as a camp counselor) because she wanted to flesh out characters and in some way correct what she found to not work about the series. Check out minisinoo for wonderfully written Twilight, Harry Potter and X-men fanfic. It's really important to me that Clay stays 17 and doesn't become idealized because he's a kid and he has the right (even in knock off fanfiction) to act like a kid and not like an adult. He's not perfect. He's dealing with his own stuff (at the very least subclinical anxiety and he likely had a depressive episode 2 years prior to the series).

8\. I've been a manic depressive since I was a kid which means many of the things I am describing are from personal experience and they are how I think about and experience my reality. My experience is not universal and I am not TRYING to be universal.

9\. I read a critique about how we don't really see Hannah struggling with mental illness, which is valid, but I understand why they didn't from an artistic perspective, depression is boring, I do not recommend it. Watching someone stare at a wall for 12 hours isn't terribly interesting or compelling TV. Art only shows the dramatic points in mental illness which are, to be honest, 2% of the actual experience.

10\. People with mental illness are not easy people. They can be really painful, difficult people to be around. They have an astounding knack for going for the emotional jugular. Also some are real good at hiding it.

11\. For anyone struggling out there struggling with depression, help exists. I suffered for a really long time and went through many dark times but today I'm doing a lot better. I take my meds, I talk out things I went through, I have friends/family who know and are educated on the best ways to help/what to look out for in case I cannot verbalize what is happening to me and I self care like crazy. I've just finished grad school and I am starting my job soon. I'll never be "well" because episodes can and do happen but less often, not as bad and I know how to deal with them now. It does take a lot of work. I'm not well, but I am a hell of a lot better and I'm getting on with life. I have this saved on my phone and it helps a lot when I am having a bad day. post/41509206591/ive-been-getting-a-lot-of-these-lately-and-i

 **Chapter 1. If only**

" _Leave me alone. Okay, just leave me alone Clay. You should just go."_

" _I thought it was okay."_

" _I don't want you here. Get out!"_

" _Hannah…"_

" _Get the fuck out!"_

" _Okay. I'll go. But tell me what's going on, okay? Tell me what's wrong."_

" _You don't want to be with me, Clay."_

" _But I do. I really do."_

" _You know what people will say?"_

" _No. And I don't care."_

" _Because it's easy for you, right, because you're not the class slut."_

" _Don't say that."_

" _Everybody says it!"_

" _I don't say it."_

" _Yes you did; when you saw that picture!"_

" _I didn't believe it. I was angry for a minute because, because I was jealous of Justin. And I was mad at you for wanting him and not me. And I was an asshole and I'm sorry_...I'm not going. Not now." Clay didn't know where the words came from as they spilled from his mouth.

Hannah sat there crying and Clay sat next to her, buttoning up his shirt and trying, at least in this moment, to put aside the crush of rejection and the urge to bolt. He noticed the tissues on the night stand and reached across for them, his arm bushing her. Hannah flinched and curled into herself. Clay placed the box in her hands and moved a half inch away from her on the bed. A thousand emotions were playing across her face but he couldn't read any of them.

"I'll give you space and everything but let me sit with you for a bit. We don't have to talk if you don't want to," he said. 'I don't want to go. I love you,' he wanted to say but he was seventeen and it was beyond him to even really admit it himself, let alone say it aloud. What good would it do anyway? He disgusted her; it would only make it worse.

"Leave me alone Clay," she protested again.

"Can I get someone to sit with you? Maybe you can call your mom to pick you up?" He would find someone to take care of her and then run away as quickly as possible. 'Run Clay,' his gut said. 'Bail out now before you make an even greater fool of yourself.' But the tears trickling down her face and the scared look in her eyes kept him in place.

"My phone is dead," she said, choking on tears and pulling a tissue from the box.

"Call her from my phone," he said, handing over his phone. She took it in trembling hands as a burst of laughter sounded from the other side of the door.

"Let's get out of this room. Let's get some air." He paused and added softly, "I won't touch you, I promise." She nodded as the door burst open and Jessica and Justin fell into the room. Jessica stumbled onto the bed as Justin reached out to stop her fall.

"Love birds," Jessica giggled as she attempted to right herself.

"Getting in on a piece of that ass too, Jensen? Speaking from personal experience, you won't regret it. It was even rated the best ass in the school." Justin smirked. Shame washed over Hannah. Once more she was the school slut and that's what Clay would think. Maybe he too wanted her because he thought she was easy.

"Shut up the fuck up," Clay glowered. Hannah moved, eyes lowered, to Jessica who was swaying wildly where she sat on the bed.

"She needs water," Hannah mumbled, saying anything to take the focus off of her.

"I'm a big girl, Hannah. You aren't my mom," Jessica slurred.

"I'll grab water," Clay said, pushing past Justin to the door who stood silently for a minute in the entrance to the room.

"Oh hey Clay!" Jeff exclaimed when Clay stepped out into hallway. "I saw you and Hannah heading upstairs. What's happening?" Jeff grinned widely and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Nothing happened," Clay replied quickly, too quickly, unable to sort out the whirlwind of emotions that had been the last hour. "Hannah's in there taking care of Jess who is pretty out of it. I'm just grabbing some water."

"Well, get on it bro! Seize the moment! I'm proud of you, son. You've come so far under my tutelage." Jeff smirked before changing his tone, "I'm off on a beer run. Want anything?"

"I'm ok," Clay told him. He looked at Jeff critically. "You good to drive?"

"I'm all good, dude. 2 beers, 2 hours. I'll be fine." Jeff headed down the stairs and Clay returned to his mission.

Clay slipped into the room in time to see Justin pulling Hannah's arm hard enough to leave the marks of his fingers, dragging her to the door as Hannah resisted with everything she had. "Just get the hell out, bitch. I'll take care of my girlfriend," Justin said. Clay put the glass down on the desk.

"Leave her the fuck alone," he demanded. Justin turned his head to Clay with a smirk.

"What? You don't want me to ruined your change to get with that?"And it was then Clay did the most un-Clay-like thing he had ever done and punched Justin. "The fuck Jensen!" Justin yelled clutching his jaw and letting go of Hannah who stumbled back to the bed.

"Get out. Get the hell out now!" Clay threatened, pushing Justin out of the door and slamming it behind him. He locked it to keep Justin out. Clay leaned against the door and breathed heavily. "Oh my god I've never done something like that before. I just punched Justin Foley. Holy shit I just punched someone." A subsequent litany of "Holy shit"s poured from his mouth. From where she sat next to Jess on the bed, Hannah could see he was shaking but she couldn't go to him, her legs were too weak. She lay down next to Jessica and watched him with wide eyes. Clay came back to himself and brought over the water glass from where he had left it, not able to bring himself to look at Hannah as he handed it to her. Her hand lingered on his for a second. They looked at where their hands touched, unable to look into each other's eyes.

"I should stay with her, make sure she's ok," Hannah said.

"I can go, if you want," Clay replied, still unable to look at her.

He turned toward the door, about to open it, when her whisper softly, "No, don't go." He rested his forehead against the door. Still clutching the glass, Hannah rose, making it halfway across the room, as far as she could bring herself to go. "Please don't go," she managed, a little bit louder.

"Ok."

"Clay, I…" her voice trailed off. He turned and sank to the floor. "Stay." Catching her eye, he nodded before resting his head on his knees. Returning to Jessica, she roused the sleeping girl and sat her up. "Jessica, here's water, drink." Jessica moaned but obeyed, drinking half the glass before collapsing back onto the bed.

"Turn her on her side," Clay muttered, watching the girls blankly. Hannah turned to him and he quickly looked back down at the floor. "In case she pukes," he continued by way of explanation. She nodded even though he couldn't see her and shifted Jessica, who protested briefly before falling back asleep.

Hannah moved to sit on the floor, back against the bed. The banging started then.

"Open the door you dickwad!" Justin screamed. "I'm going to kill you and that bitch slut." The blows of his fists shook the door against Clay's back. "Open the fucking door," he continued yelling, each repeat punctuated by banging.

Hannah looked up to find Clay staring at her. Even in the dim light she could see the intensity in his eyes. It was a mix of confusion and hurt and so many other emotions. She tilted her head back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling as she began to cry, big ugly tears running down her face but she made no move to wipe them away, sobs wracked her body.

She didn't know how long she cried. At some point Justin gave up on his assault on the door but Clay remained in his position guarding the room, watching her. When she ran out of tears she looked at him, looking at her, and nodded, lying down to curl up on the floor next to the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2. Everything is different in the harsh morning light**

Sunlight filtered in through the window, hitting Hannah's eyes. She sat up slowly and looked around the room, remembering where she was. Her eyes fell on Clay, back still against the door, head on his knees. Hearing her stir, he looked up and saw beauty. She was as striking as a renaissance sculpture. Her lips were parted slightly as if she was surprised he was looking at her and her eyes were filled with sadness. The light hit her sleep tousled hair, transforming it into a halo.

The force of his stare overwhelmed her and she suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. She couldn't look at him anymore. She needed a task, anything at all. Suddenly she looked away and rose to check on Jessica who sleep quietly, chest rising slowly with each breath.

"She ok?" Clay asked softly. Back to him, Hannah nodded. "I'll grab her another glass of water." He unlocked the door softly and tiptoed outside, casting his around for trouble. He saw Justin passed out on the floor but clearly down for the count for the foreseeable future. With horror and (if he was being honest) a small amount of pride, Clay could see the beginnings of a bruise blossoming over Justin's jaw. He snagged two red cups from the floor and walked quietly to the bathroom. He rinsed the cups throughly and filled them with water before glancing up at his reflection in the mirror.

The harsh bathroom light exposed all of his flaws and highlighted the lines on his face from the seam of his shirt. His hair was everywhere. Setting the cups down, he ran a hand through his hair, still crunchy with gel, only making it worse. A scrawny kid stared back at him, not worthy of someone as beautiful as Hannah. Jeff's assertion and the alcohol had given him courage last night but he'd only repulsed her. He sighed and scooped water into his mouth.

Reentering the room and shutting the door as quietly as he could, he made his way over to Hannah and placed one glass on the night stand before handing one to her. "For you," he murmured. She scooted back an inch on the end and he realized how close to her he had been. What was he thinking that he had a chance? She took a small sip and smiled up at him but he saw her lips were tight and it didn't reach her eyes and she couldn't even be near him without flinching.

"I should, um, I should go," he said softly as he backed up toward the door. He paused as he exited. "Are you alright?" he asked without turning around.

"Clay," he heard her murmur and he nodded. Of course she wanted him to go, to pretend nothing had happened between them. How had he convinced himself it was something more? Last night she'd wanted protection against Justin and that was it. She'd been drunk. He walked through the door, trying to stand tall and not flee.

The door sounded like a whimper as it closed and Hannah collapsed onto the bed, dissolving into tears for the third time in twelve hours. Was it possible to run out of tears? She could feel her heart in her chest, as painful as the throbbing of her headache. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss and trying so hard to block out every boy who had injured her. He had stayed with her all night when she needed him and now she couldn't say anything. He probably regretted it, wish he'd left when she said to. He had done those things to be nice because he was a good guy. There was no world in which he meant those things; she did not deserve someone as kind as him. "Slut," "whore," "desperate," "easy," echoed in her head.

"Hannah?" Jessica stuttered, woken by Hannah's sobbing. "That's you?"

"Yea Jess, it's me," Hannah managed. "There's water next to you."

"Thanks." Jess reached for the cup and drank it slowly. "Where's Justin?"

"Somewhere, I think," Hannah replied. Jess nodded and took another sip.

"You were here all night? Was Clay here too?"

"Yea."

"You know he's like obsessed with you?" Jess said, falling back onto the bed. Hannah looked at Jessica in surprise, but the other girl had already fallen back asleep. Hannah stared at her palms. Jess was lying. How could he like her? Even if it was true, he wouldn't anymore after last night. He had stayed because he was a good guy. Even if he didn't believe those things they said about her, he wouldn't want to be with her. That was why he had left so fast.

Hannah rose and headed toward the door, quietly walking around the sleeping bodies of people she did not want to wake. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror by the entry way. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her curly hair was a bird's nest on her head. No, no one would fall in love with someone like her. She began the long walk home. "Slut," "whore," "attention seeker," "pathetic."


	3. Chapter 3

**I sincerely apologize for how teenficy these next few chapters are**

 **Chapter 3. Facing reality**

The rest of Sunday passed without incident. Hannah managed to get in before her parents woke up but was surprised that they offered no comment beyond, "Did you enjoy the party?" She figured they were so desperate for her to be normal, to do something, to do anything, to get out of bed, to leave her room, that they would excuse coming home after curfew.

On Monday Hannah didn't see Clay at all. She didn't know if he was ignoring her or if it was coincidence. Right before last period, she ran into him, almost quite literally.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly, not even able to bring himself to look at her. "I'm gonna be late to class."

"Ok," she said to his retreating back. She could feel the eyes on her as the comments started.

"Woah Hannah!" Justin exclaimed. Hannah saw the bruise on Justin's jaw that was just starting to come into its own colorwise. She wondered what he had told people. "I thought you made Jensen into a man!" They all laughed as she tried to walk away but they followed her. "What, was he bad?"

"I bet after your dick, Justin, nothing will satisfy her," Bryce cut in, slapping Justin on the shoulder.

"Slut!" someone called after her.

Hannah ducked into the bathroom, booking it for a stall. Not only the whole school was calling her a slut again but Clay refused to even look at her. He had practically bolted when he saw her. How could she face him?

"Did you hear Hannah Baker fucked Clay Jensen?" some girl remarked to her friend as they entered the restroom.

"That slut? Is she going to fuck every guy in school?"

"All I know is her vagina must be gold plated for all the dick she gets."

"For real." Their conversation mercifully turned to geometry and how unfair a recent test was.

Hannah stayed in the stall, hand over her mouth, trying to hold back her tears, until they left. She couldn't possibly go to class now. So much for her fresh start this year. She had messed everything up again.

When she was reasonably calm, she exited the bathroom and ran straight into Tony.

Hannah never knew how to feel about Tony. He was at once ageless and a regular, immature teenage boy. Sometimes he seemed omniscient. She didn't feel up to having judgement pronounced right now.

"Hannah, what's the hurry?" he asked, slinging an arm over her. "Heading to class or skipping?"

"I haven't quite decided yet," she admitted.

"School is a buzzing. You and Clay finally get together? Because it has been painful to watch you guys circle each other for a year!" Tony exclaimed.

"Nothing happened," she muttered.

"That is not what your face says," he replied, studying her. Then he got angry. "Did something happen? Did he do something?" He rolled up his short sleeved t-shirt, a gesture that almost made Hannah laugh at the absurdity.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "No, he didn't do anything. It was me. It's always me. I am Hannah Baker, there is nothing so good in this world that I can't screw it up."

"What do you mean?"

"Tony, I can't do this right now. I just can't."

"Ok. You going to be alright?" he asked. She nodded. "Let me know if I need to kick the shit out of that guy, ok?"

"If anything I think you need to kick my butt." She laughed despite herself.

"That kid is crazy about you, anyone with two eyes can see," he looked at her intensely and like she had thought so many times before, it was like having a god see into your soul. "Be careful. Take care of yourself, ok?" Again she nodded. "Alright. Bye Hannah banana."

She smiled slightly at the well worn nickname as he walked down the hallway and she started in the opposite direction. Tony didn't know what he was talking about.

There was no one in the hallway as she left the building but the voices, "Slut," "Whore," "cum dumpster," "bitch," followed her all the way home.

;

That night they both were on at the Crestmont so he had no choice but to see her. He spent the whole day rehearsing in his head, working out different scenarios. There were the ones where he ran away, the ones where she ran away, the ones where she slapped him and the ones where she laughed in his face for even thinking someone like her would ever want someone like him. Wasn't that what happened? He repulsed her? He had done something wrong?

She was already there when he rode up. She smiled when he walked in but Clay could see it did not reach her eyes.

"Hey Helmet," Hannah said in her normal tone. "I found a particularly nasty popcorn butter explosion for you."

"Um, thanks," Clay replied. Of all the scenarios he had gone over, this had not been one of them. He didn't know how to act normally anymore.

"I'm going to stock the TP," she said, turning away.

For the long six hours of their shift, Clay found himself studying Hannah. She seemed like someone doing a really good impression of Hannah Baker. Twice their eyes locked and twice she looked away quickly, avoiding his gaze. She did a good job pretending to be absorbed with her tasks but it was obvious she was uncomfortable.

Somehow, despite the closeness of the small theater, they managed to spend the shift without much conversation. Hannah wondered, following him out, if this is how it would be from here on. She watched him unlock his bike, feeling so very small. The bad thoughts in her head grew louder and she was almost scared he could hear them or even worse that he would believe them. "Slut," "whore," "useless," "waste of space."

"Bye Helmet," she said in a wane facsimile of cheerfulness. He stood slowly. She couldn't quite see his eyes in the glow from the street light but she could see the white of his knuckles on the handlebars and his adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. She couldn't stand it anymore and starting walking in the opposite direction, forcing herself not to run away.

"Wait, Hannah!" she heard when she'd made it half a block. He walked toward her, stopping right beside her, the bike forming a wall between them. She wondered if he was trying to protect himself from her. She was a tornado, capable of destroying everything in her path and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

"Yea?" she asked, forcing a smile.

"I, um…" he trailed off, all of his confidence had gone into saying her name. He hadn't actually thought about what he'd say. "Did you finish that paper for…" Clay blew out his breath. "No, that's not it."

"What?" Hannah asked.

"Saturday was…"

"Just a drunken mistake?" Hannah offered quickly though she didn't mean it.

"Yea," he agreed, face crestfallen. "No, actually. Not for me. I don't know how to do this." He looked at her and received no help from her guarded expression. He shrugged helplessly.

"Do what exactly?" Hannah asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I don't know how talk to girls, girl. I like you Hannah and maybe to you it was a mistake but for me...you don't like me; I get it; that's fine." Clay paused, having let out more than he had intended. "I just wanted to make sure that you were ok and that we are ok. And you weren't ok and I want you to be ok because I care about you even if you don't feel the same. I cannot stand it if you hate me." Clay mentally prepare to climb under the nearest rock.

Hannah stood there at a complete loss for words. She must have been staring because he moved a little further back from her, his bike the gulf between.

"I, um. Clay…" she trailed off.

"I get it. Just tell me if you're ok and I'll go," he said.

"No, Clay," she gathered her breath and her courage. "I like you, I like you a lot but...People will talk and you will be dragged down with me."

"You like me?" Clay said incredulously, missing all the rest.

"Yes idiot! But I am so messed up and I'll mess you up too." Hannah could feel the tears and begged herself not to cry in front of him yet again. Tears were too close to the surface these days.

"I'm willing to take that risk if you are," Clay whispered. Hannah looked up at him, lip quivering trying to hold back tears. "Can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"Can I kiss you? If you're ok with it."

Hannah couldn't help letting out a laugh before nodding and reaching up to take his face in her hands, bringing her lips gently to his. When she pulled back, he had the silliest grin on his face and all her dark thoughts, the bad thoughts quieted to a whisper, no match for these feelings of happiness.

"I believe you promised me a ride home on your bike." she teased. He swung his leg over the bike so he was straddling it. For a second she was afraid he would take off but that grin was still spread wide on his face.

"You chariot awaits, my lady," Clay proclaimed gallantly. "But first you must put on your crown." He placed his helmet on her head, snapping it closed beneath her chin. "Who is 'Helmet' now?" She stuck out her tongue at him.

Clay had never before "lived in the moment." He was a planner and was always thinking about what he had to do but right now, in this moment, nothing else mattered. He tapped the handlebars and Hannah hopped up, placing her hands over his on the handles. "Ready?"

What a loaded question. Was she ready? Ready for him to start pedaling the bike? Ready for whatever this was or what it could be? Ready to trust him? Maybe? She found her voice. "Yes."

Clay pushed off and Hannah knew that he, ever the cautious one, was going relatively slow, but she felt like she was flying. Hannah drank in the stars and the warmth of his hands under hers. The wind on her face painted in her memory. She glanced back and saw Clay's face. The same grin in place on his face though his eyes were responsibly focused on the road ahead. She took a picture in her mind to keep next to her heart. She threw her head back and laughed. She knew at that moment that this was pure happiness, this was her Patronus moment to ward away the bad thoughts. She had never felt so safe as here between his arms. This was pure and perfect happiness.

The moment, of course, met it's end as they neared her house and the world came back to reality. Clay slowed the bike to a stop so she could hop off. She took off the helmet and sat it on his head. He looked at her for a long moment, unsure, before leaning down to kiss her softly.

"I should go, I'll be late for dinner," Clay said.

"Good night," Hannah replied. Clay smiled and pushed off, disappearing into the dark, only occasionally visible in the street lights.

 _Walk you to school tomorrow morning?_ Hannah's phone pinged as she sat down with her plate of leftovers what felt like only minutes later, likely from as soon as he made it home and she had to smile. Movies and magazines always said to wait at least a day before contact. Apparently Clay had no chill, not that she really much cared or had much experience in the matter.

 _Missing 1st for a dr appt. see u at lunch?_

 _See you then_

Hannah made it up the stairs before doubt started to creep in. She carefully drew on that memory of only a short while ago and held onto it tight to help keep the darkness and demons away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4. And the rest of the world**

"Have you seen Jeff?" Clay asked the baseball player at the next table (Harry? Henry?) in the library as he waited for Jeff. Five minutes (typical Jeff) had turned into fifteen which had turned into thirty.

"Dude, you didn't hear? He got into an accident Saturday night," Harry or Henry replied. "Coach told us about it yesterday."

"How bad is it?"

"Not sure," Harry/Henry replied. "I know he had brain surgery and his face is messed up. You're Clay, right? A couple of guys are going to the hospital this week when we get the all clear from his mom. I think Jeff would want you to come." Clay nodded and gave Harry (turns out it was Harry), his number. "Catch you around."

Clay sat at the table and stared at his phone. Jeff had been in the hospital for 2 whole days and he hadn't known. He had spent all of Sunday and Monday beating himself up for hurting Hannah and trying it figure out exactly what he had done. He wasn't very experienced and was (it he was going to be honest with himself) very self conscious about that. Maybe she'd figured that out and didn't want to be with him? He'd dreaded facing Hannah.

Then last night everything had changed. He still didn't know what had happened Saturday night and that made him apprehensive but when they kissed last night it was like champagne bubbles of happiness. He hadn't been able to sleep, filled with the possibility and hope that just maybe she liked him too. Clay had spent all morning grinning like an idiot and daydreaming through class. Mr. Bradley had had to call his name twice to answer an algebra problem. His only thought about Jeff had been how much flack he would catch.

The bell rang, jolting Clay from his thoughts. He grabbed his lunch from his locker and headed outside, looking around for Hannah. He spotted her sitting alone at one of the tables.

"This seat occupied?" he asked.

"It's all yours unless you're going to study for algebra," she replied cheekily.

"No algebra today. Just lunch with a pretty girl," Clay tried and then winced at how horrible that sounded. Hannah's giggle at his lack of smoothness was cut off by the real world.

"When you get tired of Jensen, wanna give me a call?" someone called from the table behind them.

"Hey Jensen, heard you scored with Hannah," came another voice.

"Ignore it," Hannah said softly, terrified that he'd believe them. 'Please don't believe,' she willed silently.

"Hey Jensen, you know where she's been?"

"Wanna get out of here?" Clay asked. Hannah nodded. He picked up his lunch box as she packed up hers. He took that as well and then after a pause, held out his hand. She looked into his eyes and took it. They held hands as they exited the courtyard to the tune of whistles and cat calls. It felt radical, them against the world.

"You know it isn't true, right?" she asked cautiously as they sat down on some steps by the side of the school, away from watching eyes.

"It doesn't matter to me" he replied though a bit of relief slipped into his voice and he hated himself for it.

"It does matter to you," she challenged. "Don't tell me it doesn't." He shrugged helplessly and covered her hand with his.

"I don't want it to," he admitted. They sat in silence for several minutes, avoiding eye contact. Clay knew he should say something reassuring about what had just happened in the courtyard with all those people but he couldn't. He had always been invisible, someone people neither liked nor disliked. For the most part, he was incredibly surprised when people knew who he was. He didn't know how to react to it. "Jeff was in an accident," he said quietly, changing the conversation.

"What happened?" Hannah asked, slightly grateful for the change of topic.

"I don't know but he's in the hospital." He picked at his food. "Sorry, it's been on my mind."

"He's your friend." Hannah tried to think of other people she would call Clay's friend. He was friendly with many of the other students. She couldn't think of anyone who disliked him but she didn't know anyone else who were really his friend. Tony...maybe? Then again, other than Clay and maybe Tony, she didn't really have friends at school either. Cat had moved so far. They talked once a week, down from every day. She missed her friend desperately but she didn't know how to bridge that distance. "Sorry," she said, realizing she'd been quiet for a while. "He's your friend, of course you're worried about him."

"I saw him right before he took off and he said he was fine." At that moment his phone buzzed. "It's Harry, apparently Jeff's woken up but he's still out of it. The baseball team is visiting him Thursday after school if all seems ok."

"You should go."

"I don't know if he'd want me there."

"You know he would."

The bell rang at that moment and Clay stood quickly. "I'll text you later," he said and walked off.

"Got a quickie in? You that fast Jensen?" a voice called after him as he walked back through the courtyard to get to the parking lot and his ride. Clay did another un-Clay-like thing and raised his middle finger at the voice. He kept moving.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5. Friends**

Clay met Harry and several other members of the baseball team after school on Thursday, apparently having gotten the go ahead from Jeff's mother that it was ok to visit. On the drive to the hospital, Clay was surprised to get only one comment regarding Hannah.

When the conversation about the end of the season died, one of the guys asked, "You seeing Hannah Baker or something?"

"Leave Clay alone," Harry cut in, defensive of the stranger Jeff had called friend.

"Don't worry dude, I was just going to say she seems sweet," the guy replied. He clapped Clay on the shoulder. "I never believed all that bullshit about her anyway."

Clay was grateful when they pulled up to the hospital and the attention left him. The front desk directed them to his room in the pediatric wing. Jeff had left the ICU or whatever this morning. Apparently that was a good sign but Clay was still not prepared for what he saw. His entire face was bruised almost beyond recognition. His eyes were ringed with bruises making him look like a raccoon. He had bandages over his nose and his head was shaved, covered by a mesh cap and electrodes. It was hard to believe the guy in front of him was the same one he saw in the library every other day.

"You look like shit dude," Harry said looking at Jeff. Jeff smiled weakly.

"Jeff's still recovering so this will be a short visit today," Dr. Atkins said warned the boys before she left the room to give Jeff some time with his friends.

"How are you holding up?" another teammate, Kevin, asked.

"Ok I guess. My head hurts like a bitch," Jeff commented.

"Can't believe you're in the kiddie wing!" the guy who had talked to Clay earlier, Pete?, said.

"Yea, apparently there is a 'teen' room and movies and crap but I'm not allowed to watch them. 'Brain rest.' I'm supposed to sit here quietly and not think about anything," Jeff said bitterly.

"Well, at least you're gonna miss Ms. Peterson's test! Those things are deadly!" Harry said.

They talked for about 15 minutes or rather Harry, Pete and Kevin did, commenting on the upcoming world series and gossip from the party. Jeff was mostly silent, nodding when they looked to him for comment.

"Going to have to kick you boys out now," Dr. Atkins pronounced returning to the room. "Jeff needs to rest." The boys groaned but started to file out.

"Can I talk to Clay for a few minutes?" Jeff asked.

"Jeff…" Dr. Atkins said.

"Mom, please," Jeff pleaded.

"Fine, a few minutes," she gave in.

"I have to get home for dinner," Harry said apologetically.

"I'll call my mom for a ride," Clay said quickly. Harry nodded and left. When they were alone, Clay asked, "How are you actually?"

"Shitty. I couldn't read or watch TV even if I was allowed to, letters keep moving. My memory sucks. I can't pay attention to things for every long," Jeff said, frustration evident in his voice. "I guess you'll have you're tutoring work set out for you when I get back to school." A pause. "If I get back to school." Jeff studied his hands. "Tell me something good. I probably won't remember it but I'd like to hear good news."

"Um, I guess Hannah and I might be happening," Clay said cautiously. Jeff grinned.

"Holy shit! Told you so! She ended up coming to the party?"

"I guess you don't remember?"

"Everything is kind of hazy," Jeff said, sad momentarily before pushing on. "But that's not the point. Good for you man! Did you kiss her yet?"

"Yea," Clay said blushing despite himself.

"Anything more than that?" Clay's blushed deepend. "My man! Glad that happened finally. You two were painful! Guessing I played a role? Aren't you glad you keep me around?"

"Jeff, Clay should really go," Dr. Atkins called into the room.

"Thanks for coming and congrats. I'm really happy for you. Remind me again next time, ok?" Jeff said. Clay nodded and left the room.

"Thank you for coming," Dr. Atkins said as Clay passed him. "Jeff speaks very highly of you."

;

Clay made his way back down to the lobby and called his mom but it went straight to voicemail, same thing with his dad's. Trying to think of who to call, he settled on Tony.

"Yo man," Tony said as he answered his phone.

"Hey, I have a huge favor. Can you pick me up from the hospital?"

"Are you ok?" Tony asked, concern flooding his voice.

"Yea, just visiting Jeff."

"I heard something happened to him. Alright, I got you. Be there in a few."

Clay tried to read Great Expectations, due soon for English, but he found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. His thoughts were preoccupied by Jeff. He gave up and looked around the lobby as people passed by him. Happy people carrying new babies from the maternity wing, sad people moving in slow motion while clutching coffee cups like lifelines, doctors and nurses hurrying toward the elevators. "Code blue to Pavillon 5, code blue to Pavilion 5" came over the speakers.

"Hey Clay, anybody home?" he heard Tony call as the other boy waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Clay."

"Yea sorry," Clay replied, "I was thinking about some things."

"Well, I left my car out front so let's move before they decided a brown kid with a mustang is suspicious," Tony replied, offering a hand to help Clay up. They walked in silence to Tony's car.

"So how's Jeff?" Tony asked, breaking the silence. Clay shrugged. "That's not an answer."

"He's shitty."

"Do you know what happened?"

"No, not really. Someone told me he saw the stop sign a little late, hit another car," Clay said matter of factly. "At least it wasn't at full speed." Tony glanced at him and waited. Tony had found that if he waited long enough most people became uncomfortable in the silence and would talk. Tony used silence like a weapon, wait long enough and you could find out anything. But Clay wasn't most people; the kid was a tough nut to crack. Today, however, it worked. "I saw him right before. I shouldn't have let him drive! He said he was fine. I was so distracted by trying to figure out what was happening Hannah and Justin and Jess that I didn't even think to make sure he was ok! I could have prevented this." Clay hit the dashboard with his fist, covering his face with his other hand.

"You can blame yourself for anything if you tried hard enough. Jeff decide to drive, not you. That's on him and who knows if it was him or his car or what. Ok?" Tony asked. Clay cried silently into his hand. "It's not your fault, man. It sounds like you had other stuff going on." Clay looked at him, his eyes starting to turn red. "What happened with Justin and Jess and Hannah?" Tony followed up, hoping to keep Clay talking. Kid had a tendency to bottle up if you let him.

"Jess was drunk and Justin Foley was being a shit. Hannah wanted to stay with Jess so nothing would happen to her like aspirating or whatever. She was pretty wasted."

"So how did you fit in?"

"Justin was trying drag Hannah out of the room, calling her a bitch, so I punched him."

"You punched him?! Clay Jensen punched someone!" Tony said incredulously. "So that was you?" Clay nodded, a grin with a hint of pride creeping onto his face. "Well someone's needed to punch him for a while. Left an impressive bruise." Tony left out a whistle. Clay fiddled with the radio dial. "So what's happening with you and Hannah?" Clay shook his head. "No dude don't give me that shit. Hannah's my friend." Tony demanded.

"I don't know what's happening. Maybe something?" As if on cue his phone buzzed. "Speak of the devil, she wants to study tomorrow."

"Be careful with her. Hannah is a good friend but the girl is drama and she's got a lot going on," Tony warned.

"Don't you think I know that?"

"I think you don't. I think you don't know the half of what she's been through."

"So what? You think I should just run away? You think I should just walk away from her?" Clay said angrily.

"No, I think you need to think carefully before setting serious with her!"

"Getting serious? Tony, I don't even know what this is!" They reached Clay's house and Clay stepped out onto the curb.

"I get that and that is what worries me. Be careful. You're both my friends and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt." With that, Tony drove off, taking the last word with him and leaving Clay alone on the walkway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. Just you and me**

Hannah waited nervously, still uncertain enough in the whatever this was. It was hard to believe it was truly real. If it was anyone except Clay, she would half suspect it was some elaborate prank to humiliate her. It had happened before.

Five minutes to five, the doorbell rang and she smiled. Clay was one of those infuriatingly on time people though at the moment in her apprehension, she appreciated it. She peeked out through the window and saw him standing there, looking as nervous as she felt. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hey," he said, voice trembling just a bit.

"Welcome to the Baker residence," she said a flourish and more confidence than she felt. She moved out of the doorway and he stepped in. They stood there for a tense moment before he seemed to dig up some confidence and leaned down to kiss her awkwardly on the cheek. "The kitchen has the best table to study it and it also has the snacks." After what happened at Jess' party, Hannah wasn't sure she was ready to be alone with him in such an intimate place as her bedroom.

"Lead the way," he replied with a smile. She showed him to the kitchen where her books were already spread out on the table. He stood awkwardly in the doorway while she put out chips.

"Anything to drink?" she asked, peering into the fridge. "We have water and milk though I could put on water for tea."

"Water is sounds good."

She filled up two glasses and set them on the table. Clay put his backpack near a chair and went to the one next to where Hannah was standing, pulling it out so she could sit. She giggled as he pushed it in as she sat. He sat in his own chair and got out his books, setting to work on his history chapter. She sighed and turned to her own homework. Physics, her nemesis.

They worked in silence for what felt like eternity. Twice Hannah caught Clay sneaking glances at her and smiled as he would quickly turn his attention back to his books. He took a deep breath and without looking up, moved his hand beneath the table. She froze when his hand brushed her lap, flashes of Marcus' unwanted hands pushed themselves into her head. Clay's hand found hers and she realized his goal had been to hold her hand. He looked up and saw that she was stiff as a board. The look of terror on her face overwhelmed him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." he said quietly, quickly removing his hand from hers, head down. Shame radiated from him.

"No, it's not you," Hannah assured him. She put her hand, the one he had tried to hold, on the table, palm up. "It's not you." Hesitantly, he put his hand in hers.

"Are you ok?" Clay asked, eyes concerned.

"Not really, but I don't want to talk about it," she replied.

"If you ever want to, I want to listen," he said.

"I know." And she believed it. "Right now I just want to be here."

"Ok," he replied. They sat there for several minutes, heads down, eyes on their textbooks. He wore a goofy grin on his face. He removed his hand, only to turn the page and replaced it a second later. He turned to smile at her.

"Can I, um, can I kiss you?" Clay asked earnestly. Hannah nodded and his lips met hers softly. It was just Clay. It wasn't Justin or Marcus or anyone else. He sat back and if it was possible, his grin was even wider.

"Help me with this problem?" she asked genuinely. She was stuck on it and he was ahead of her in physics. Clay scooted his chair nearer and leaned over her book to read the problem. She could feel the heat radiating from his body so close to her.

"So when in doubt, draw a picture and write down every fact you know. If you still don't get it, draw a bigger picture," he said calmly and without a hint of the patronizing tone she was so used to from teachers and tutors. He talked through the problem and for once her eyes didn't cross. "Explain the next one to me," he instructed and slowly she did. He nodded as she went through solving it. "Exactly right."

"You're a good teacher," she said, Clay looked up at her and this time she leaned in to kiss him. As they continued to kiss, his hand rose to her face to caress her cheek gently.

A sound at the door broke the moment and they both sprang back. Olivia Baker entered the room and Clay jumped to his feet like a Jack in the box. Olivia's eyes darted back and forth from the red faced boy in her kitchen and her daughter whose face had become white as a ghost.

"Mom, this is Clay. He's a friend from school and we work together at the Crestmont," Hannah said.

"Hello Mrs. Baker, it's very nice to meet you," Clay said a little too fast.

"Very nice to meet you, Clay," Olivia said shaking his hand.

"Clay is helping me with my homework," Hannah explained nervously. Olivia smiled. These two weren't fooling anyone. They might as well have 'we're stupid for each other' tattooed across their faces.

"At ease Ensign before you strain something," Olivia quipped. Clay laughed at that though Hannah looked slightly confused at her prom queen mother's reference. "Well Clay, would you like to stay for dinner?" Olivia offered. Clay let out the breath he'd be holding.

"Can I help you with anything Mrs. Baker?" Clay asked.

"No, I got it. I don't want to interrupt my daughter doing homework sooner than morning it's due," Olivia replied. Hannah scowled at her mother.

"I should call my mom and let her know," Clay said, excusing himself.

Olivia grinned at her daughter who had steadfastly turned her attention back to her homework. This was an interesting new development.

* * *

The physics advice was given to me by my sister. It holds.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: this chapter contains mentions of some of the imagery we saw in the series. Nothing graphic is described. _Italics_ indicates texting.**

 **Chapter 7. To be titled later**

Clay left Hannah's house after dinner with her parents which had been both more and less embarrassing than he thought it would be. Clay wanted to take Hannah out on a proper date but he had no experience with this. Jeff was in no condition to provide help which would have embarrassed Clay anyway. Clay swallowed his pride and resorted to asking his last resort.

"You called me for an emergency over this? And more importantly you're asking a gay guy on how to romance a girl?" Tony asked when they met up not long after Clay texted Tony saying there was something he couldn't talk about over phone or text.

"You're gay?" Clay asked incredulously.

"Um, yes," Tony replied. "I thought everybody knew."

"I don't think that's true."

"I think it's just you dude," Tony said incredulously. Clay chewed that over and then put it aside for now.

"Anyway, what do I do?" Clay asked.

"Come on!" Tony replied. "You're really asking this? You've never been on a date?"

"Not a real one," Clay admitted.

"Oh shit. So classic is always dinner and a movie but you both work at the only movie theater around. Hiking?" Tony suggested weakly. Clay looked at him as if he was crazy. "Ok, no to hiking. Mini golf? Oh, got it. Picnic. Girls love that." Seeing the skeptical look on Clay's face, Tony shrugged. "Ok, I have no idea if they do but Brad likes it. Worth a shot right? Supposed to be beautiful this weekend."

"That could work," Clay agreed. He cocked his head to one side "Who is Brad?"

"My boyfriend? Really Clay? You've met him," Tony admonished. Clay nodded as things clicked into place.

"That makes sense."

"Straight boys are so dense," Tony said, shaking his head.

"Where should we go?" Clay asked, changing the subject.

"Great view from on top of the hill at the end of Maple Drive." Tony clapped Clay on the shoulder. "You got this man." Tony got into his car and took off.

Clay pulled out his phone and texted Hannah, _Hey, how are you?_

His phone buzzed immediately, _bout the same since I saw you an hour ago :-P. U?_

 _Good. I was wondering if you want to hang out this weekend._

 _What does that mean exactly?_

 _Do you want to go on a date?_ Clay sighed, she was not letting him get away with anything. _With me,_ he added for good measure.

 _I assumed u meant with Ed Sheeran what does this 'date' entail?_

 _Picnic?_

 _Hmmm, lemme think bout it_

That made him nervous. Had she changed her mind? Had he done so poorly with her parents? Clay got on his bike to ride home. By the time he got there, she'd already texted him back.

 _Thought bout it. When?_

 _Sun? 2 pm?_

 _We r working :-P Tmrw? Same time?_

 _Sounds like a plan_. Clay put away his phone. At least if it was tomorrow he wouldn't have time to get nervous.

;

Hannah let out a breath of appreciation at the view as Clay spread out the blanket.

"What gave you the idea to come here?" she asked. From the vaguely embarrassed look on Clay's face she quickly surmised, "Tony."

"Yup," he said sheepishly handing her the hummus and carrots he had picked from the grocery after what felt like hours agonizing over what to get. "I'm going to admit that, as you may have expected, I do not have much experience planning dates."

"I don't have much experience going on dates. I guess we'll muddle through this together," Hannah replied. Clay grinned and poured her a glass of iced tea he'd snagged as an afterthought. "Such a beautiful day. So glad we're outdoors."

"Definitely." They sat and enjoyed the view, the quiet comfortable at first before slowly growing awkward.

"This is silly. We've talked before and we have so many topics we've never discussed."

"Like what?"

"Rogue waves. What is up with those?"

"I know!" Clay replied with a grin. "They come out of nowhere! How does that even happen?" And somehow, magically, they talked for hours about rogue waves and then tsunamis and then Hannah's childhood trip to Japan. They talked about the only time Clay had been on an airplane (a trip to Canada when he was 10 and he'd hyperventilated the whole way) and Hannah's dream to see the aurora. Somehow it was nearing sunset and they'd talked the whole time.

They held hands as they walked down the path toward Hannah's dad's car. As they drove, tension built between them.

"Want to come in?" Clay asked nervously when they neared his house. "My parents won't be home until late."

Hannah did and she didn't. With her whole heart she wanted to want to but what if what happened before happened again? What if she freaked out? She so wanted whatever this was. She feared what Clay would think if she freaked out again. "Yes," she said before she knew what she was saying. Clay let out the breath he was holding and, reaching for her hand, led her inside.

"So this is it," he said nervously. "Want a tour?" she nodded though in truth she wasn't sure. He took her around the house, dropping the extra food in the kitchen and the blanket by the stairs to the laundry. "This is my room." Hannah nodded and they went in.

Hannah sat on his bed while he nervously pointed out random things in his room. It was Clay, she reminded herself while she laughed aloud at his stories about this picture or that poster. It was Clay.

He sat next to her on the bed and they looked at each other for a minute before they kissed. He lay her down gently. He asked her if it was ok and it was. More than ok. At some point they both lost their shirts.

And then it wasn't ok. Her breath was caught in her throat and she wanted to scream. "Stop," she whispered but barely a sound came out. "Stop!" she said louder and pushed him off.

"Did I hurt you? Are you ok?" Clay asked alarmed as Hannah began to cry in front of him. What had happened? One minute she was fine and then she wasn't, just like the previous time.

"No."

He handed her her sweater and put on his shirt. He rose to grab her a glass of water, helpless to do anything else. She had calmed down by the time he got back but her eyes were still red from crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Was it something I did?"

"No," she said softly. "It's me, I'm just so messed up." She took a sip of water and he waited patiently for her to speak. "None of those things you heard were true. You're the third person I've ever kissed," she admitted. "I've never done anything beyond kissing but they grabbed me and when you…" she broke down again, the tears flowing freely as she struggled to catch her breath. He reached over to hold her but she flinched so he pulled back. Clay took her hand instead and that seemed to be ok. He rubbed show circles over her palm with his thumb.

"We should try again," Hannah said when she stopped crying.

"I don't really want to," he said. Seeing the hurt look on her face he pressed on hurriedly, "Not right now. To be honest, it's a little fast for me too. I know guys are supposed to want it and all but you're only the second girl I've kissed and I haven't really gone before second base." He shook his head at how stupid and juvenile that sounded but he didn't know how else to phrase it. "I wouldn't mind. I mea, I would like to take it slow."

"You've only kissed one girl before me?" Hannah asked incredulously. Clay blushed and looked away.

"Lori Anderson at math camp two summers ago," he said. Hannah tried to cover her grin and the beginning to laugh. "She was an algebraic genius and could quote Space Balls in its entirety."

"That's so Clay Jensen," she said between laughs.

"Yea, yea. I'm a nerd."

"No, it's sweet."

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked.

"Yes," Hannah replied, glad to break the tension on this small room and relieved at their conversation.

He lead her to the den and they watched Monty Python because he'd never seen it. They blushed through the castle scene. He put V for Vendetta because she'd never seen it. They kissed through the end. And she was fine. And it was fine. No bad memories or thoughts. They were just Hannah and Clay and that was wonderful.

* * *

 **Note: I have no idea how teenagers sound in texts. Full sentences for Clay and abbreviations for Hannah were a conscious decision. I also have no idea who they consider hot celebrities these days.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8. The Sun and the stars**

Clay stopped by to visit Jeff two days after he came home from the hospital. Clay found himself in Jeff's room, baseball trophies stood on shelves, posters covered the walls. His previously cheerful friend sat in an overstuffed chair, withdrawn.

"Hey," Clay said weakly as he took the desk chair.

"Hey," Jeff replied.

"How are you?" Clay asked.

"Shitty. Honestly really fucking shitty," Jeff said in a monotone. Bitterness crept into his voice. "Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am to be alive and pretending everything is great but it's not. It sucks. I can't read, I can't watch TV. I have trouble even talking to you right now."

"That sucks," Clay offered, uncertain what to say.

"Yea, the worst of it is that I could have hurt someone. The other guy? He's fine except for a broken leg but what if I had killed him? Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe I deserve to be like this."

"Jeff…"

"He wrote me a letter, you know? He says he forgives me," Jeff said. He paused and then his anger exploded out of him. "But fuck how can he forgive me? I almost killed him! He wants to meet me, when I'm ready. How can I be ready for that?" Jeff started to cry. Clay had never seen another guy cry before and he didn't know what to do. He cursed the taboo that stopped him from hugging his friend but the unspoken rules between two guys were clear. "Can you leave? I need to be alone."

Clay nodded and left with a quick goodbye to Dr. Atkins, her face drawn and her smile tight. As he sat on his bike he thought about what to do next. He didn't want to go home to a thousand questions. He pulled out his phone.

 _Can you meet up?_

 _Hw, what's up?_

 _Nothing, don't worry about it._

 _No tell me_

He could almost hear Hannah sigh through the phone.

 _Nothing, it's nothing._

 _almost done, meet u same spot as sat in 1 h?_

 _Sure._

;

An hour later he sat on the hill overlooking the city. Hannah sat down next to him and he was unsure how she had sneak up on him. She put her head on his shoulder and her warmth seemed immediately seeped into him.

"You see that W of stars? That is Cassiopeia," Hannah said, pointing at the constellation. "You can use her to find polaris if you have trouble finding the ursa major, the big dipper. Cassiopeia was a queen who bragged her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than Poseidon's wife so he chained Andromeda to a rock and sent a monster to eat her. Cassiopeia spends half the year upside down for her boast." She moved her finger over to point at a new constellation. "She's near Perseus and Pegasus. Perseus was a son of Zeus, he slew Medusa, the one with the snake hair, and Pegasus was born. Pegasus was the winged horse who actually isn't really associated with Herakles despite the Disney movie. Perseus used Medusa's head to turn the monster threatening Andromeda stone. They got married which is kinda weird but whatever." Hannah laughed softly.

"How do you know so much about this?" Clay asked, surprised.

"I had this book of mythology when I was a kid that I must have read a million times. The pages are literally falling apart. I went to summer camp when I was twelve and my counselor told me that most of the characters I loved were in the stars. I've really liked astronomy ever since," she explained.

"Have you thought about going into it?"

"I'm no good at physics. Astronomy is just a hobby."

"You aren't so bad at physics."

"Yea, that's after you teach it to me. I don't think I could actually do astrophysics but I love learning about everything space related. I used to pretend the stars were friends, their twinkling their language and maybe one day they would talk to me too if I learned all their names," she said, slightly embarrassed. "I can name most of the stars we can see here from earth."

Her middle name, Clay found out that night, was Celeste, fitting for someone who could name the stars. Apparently it was a family name, passed down from mother to daughter as far back as her family had records, but Hannah embodied it, as breathtaking as all the stars spread across the night sky. Clay had never seen her face light up as much as she was explaining the tiny points of light in the sky.

Hannah took him through all the major constellations, telling him the stories, connecting one to another. They headed back to her parents' car and loaded Clay's bike in the bike.

"Feeling any better?" Hannah asked.

"Amazing," Clay replied.

* * *

 ****This is likely the last 'cute' chapter for a long time. A lot of discussion of mental illness is coming up so TRIGGER WARNING which I will repeat at the top of chapter 9 and can be assumed from there on out.


	9. Chapter 9

**TRIGGER WARNING:** **descriptions of mental illness**

 **Chapter 9. And so they were happy**

And so they were happy. Hannah hadn't thought she was capable of being this happy. She was gloriously, shamelessly happy. Clay referred to her as his girlfriend in mid September (without consulting her) so she started calling him her boyfriend. Jeff came back to school in October but he was different. He had trouble concentrating and he became frustrated more easily. Clay worried about him but there was nothing he could do.

Hannah and Clay worked in the Crestmont and tried very hard not to sneak away too often. Hannah's parents were happy Clay was around because their daughter was happy though they tiptoed around the topic because the couple was young and their relationship too new. Clay's parents worried that they were getting too serious too soon and that she would distract him from school. The fear of the latter didn't manifest but they worried all the same. Hannah and Clay hung out with Tony and Brad after school, eating pizza and going for rides in Tony's car. Hannah spent a week reading draft after draft of Clay's application essay to the Harvard summer scholars program and half an hour on a pep talk before he finally hit submit. On a whim, Hannah applied to a two week summer poetry camp in Portland. And so Hannah was happy. The bad thoughts were locked away and her demons were walking politely on leashes. Hannah was happy until the cold started creeping slowly, slowly.

"Ok, enough of this," she thought. "I have nothing to be unhappy about. I have Clay who loves me. I have Tony and Brad and Cat. I'm doing well in school, and even did well on the SAT. I'm going to go to college next year. This is just self indulgence." It became harder to care. A B+ from Ms. Reese used to feel like a congressional medal of honor, now even getting an A didn't matter. Who gave a fuck? She felt empty. Food tasted bland. She lost weight. She tried to hide it at first, ashamed that this was happening and then she stopped caring about that too. Doing anything at all was a chore and required hours of convincing. Her dirty clothes piled up where she had lost the will to bring them to the laundry. She would hang out with Clay and putt a smile on her face, draining her of her energy for the day. When he left, she collapsed on her bed to stare at the popcorn ceiling. Sleep didn't come to her. She crawled out of bed in the morning not having slept. Everything moved in slow motion as if she was stuck in molasses.

Hannah started to accept it. Emotions were not something she had. It was all pretend. The voices of doubt crept in and people still talked in the hallway, "slut," "whore," "worthless," "waste of space." She could hear them whisper everywhere she went. She could barely speak. Clay began to look at her with concern and so she found reasons to spend less time with him. When she had to, she pretended everything was fine. She felt like she was wearing a Hannah suit and it was so heavy.

And then, suddenly, magically, it started to lift. Every day became a little bit easier. She was still exhausted after spending a lot of time with people but Hannah no longer dreaded each day. Seeing Clay was no longer hard and she began to write again. As the calendar turned to December, Hannah began to get excited about Christmas and was surprised that she was capable of excitement. She savored each emotion as it came back to her. Anticipation, hope and love. People referred to things that had happened in November. She didn't remember them but she nodded and played along. She didn't care all about that, she was so amazed to feel again.

With Cat's guidance, she wrangled tickets to the midnight showing of the new Star Wars movie for Clay and sat through a movie marathon where they watched the three originals in a row. Hannah admitted they were better than she had given them credit for in previous viewings. She gave Clay a framed candid photo of them her mother had taken for the actual day or really on Christmas Eve. Clay gave Hannah a necklace with the stars on it and a beautiful journal. Hannah had held it, speechless until he told her to open it. He'd drawn a picture of a bunny on the first page with the words "I love you" in a speech bubble over its head. They'd both felt it for a while but that's when they were able to say it out loud.

Cat surprised her by showing up on New Year's Eve though Clay grinned widely that they had managed to surprise Hannah. They watched Back to the Future with Cat, Tony and Tony's boyfriend Brad. Cat complained about being the fifth wheel. Clay pulled Hannah aside at midnight and kissed her silly. In early February, Hannah got an email inviting her to join the poetry intensive that July and on that the same day a letter came in the mail for Clay announcing his acceptance to the Harvard summer scholars program. Hannah's parents insisted on taking them out for dinner to celebrate.

Clay wanted to celebrate their sixth month of dating even though she thought it was stupid and when were they really counting from? There hadn't been a definitive start date. He said it should be from the picnic. She rolled her eyes and said fine, but no presents. Clay got her flowers anyway and she gave him a party sized bag of tootsie rolls.

Hannah spent all of December, January and February ecstatically happy, so happy she thought that maybe, just maybe, it was over, the bad thoughts vanquished for good. Maybe she could be happy. And then her world crashed but this time it wasn't slow. A trap door fell out from under her and she found herself falling, down, down, deeper than she had ever been before. It seemed like there was no end to her despair.


	10. Chapter 10

**TRIGGER WARNING: tough stuff ahead.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10. Depression too, is a kind of fire**

Clay hadn't heard from Hannah in several days, a change from her usual prompt texts. He knew something was wrong like it had been in November but he didn't know how to ask her about it and he didn't who to tell about his concerns and he would not have been able to articulate them if he did. He didn't have the vocabulary. Yesterday he had received a text from her, the first in days, that had just said a single word, _"sick."_ That was all. When she had been sick right after New Year's, she'd welcomed company and they'd watched Pirates of the Caribbean (one of her favorite movies) while eating soup, her in a Disney snuggie and a face mask to keep him from getting sick as well. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't say what.

"Hi Mrs. Baker!" Clay said as he approached the house.

"Hello Clay. We're just about heading out. Was Hannah expecting you? She's been sick, poor thing. She's barely left her room," Olivia Baker replied.

"I haven't heard from her but I thought I would see if she wanted company watching bad movies or something."

"She's had a nasty stomach bug for a couple of days now and I am sure she would love to see you," Andy Baker said. "Head on in. We're going out to dinner but we'll be back by 10."

"Have a good time at dinner," Clay wished them as he headed inside.

"Such a polite kid," Clay heard Olivia Baker comment.

"Hannah?" Clay called out, heading for her room. He pushed open her door but she was nowhere to be found. "Hannah?" he called louder. A moan answered him from the bathroom.

Memories from the rest of the night were in bits and snatches. Barging into the bathroom. Hannah, pale. Throwing something (a book, he found out later) out her bedroom window in a desperate attempt to get her parents' attention. Mr. Baker frozen in place as Mrs. Baker screamed at him to call 911. The sirens pulling up. Hannah on the stretcher being loaded into the truck as her mother climbed inside. Mr. Baker ushering Clay into the car. Mr. Baker staring straight ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The waiting room, white and sterile and dingy all at the same time, making him slightly nauseous. An episode of Price is Right playing distantly. You won the showcase show down. Mrs. Baker walking into the room and collapsing in Mr. Baker's arms. Clay didn't realize people could actually, physically collapse from heartbreak. A phone going off somewhere and looking down to see it was his. He couldn't remember how phones worked. Mr. Baker saying something into the phone? Maybe to Clay's mother? Someone in scrubs putting a cup of something warm into his hands. Was he hungry? How long had they been here, months? Seconds? Minutes? Years? What was time? "You can go see her for a minute." Hannah, still so pale in the bed, her stringy hair spread around her head like a halo, asleep and on monitors. Her hands so cold. Lines of fluid and needles going into her. Machines upon machines. Beeping. The woman on the other side of the curtain groaning. Warm, gentle hands leading him away and into the car. Falling into bed, not even taking off his clothes.

* * *

Title is from a poem by Taylor Mali in reference to the suicide of his wife. I've included a quote below.

"…I was going to write a poem about how fire is the only thing that can make a person jump out of a window. And maybe I'm an idiot for thinking I could have saved her, call me her knight in shattered armor, could have loved her more...but depression too is a kind of fire and I know nothing of either."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11. Wrecked, solitary, here**

Pain, so much pain. Everything was pain. Pain consumed her. She didn't know her name or who she was, all she knew was pain. Nothing existed but pain. She had no memories but pain; she had no thoughts but pain.

"Shhh, my darling," a soothing voice, an angel, said. She felt something sliding into her veins and then she dreamed. She had no body, nothing to tie her down. She floated above everything in the loving embrace of sleep.

Hannah slid through dreams and dreams and dreams, surfacing for horrible moments before returning to the relief of sleep. IVs, her mother sitting above her, her father old and tired, a bed with sheets rough with starch. An ambulance but no lights. No frenzy of activity. She surfaced again as her photo was taken and she was wheeled to a room. And then Hannah just slept, this time a dreamless slumber. Hannah woke to her new reality.

;

She was ripped, dragged, violently, angrily from the wonderful warmth of sleep by voices, not the angel from before. Rough voices, uncaring, mean. She clawed at the edges of sleep, willing it to stay. "No!" she wanted to cry out but her throat was too hoarse, her lips too dry. Pain, pain. Less than before, but somehow worse. Pain not just in her body but her soul too. Pain of thoughts she couldn't stand to think anymore. The whispers starting.

"Hannah, you need to get up. Hannah, get up!"

Her body was slow to respond but she felt her arms and legs again. She remembered, slowly, how they worked. They were so heavy, so painful to move. The voices, which belonged to angry people in pajamas, guided her to a chair in the hall. They put a band around her arm which squeezed her tight, a thermometer in her mouth which choked her and a needle in her vein which became warm and red as her blood slide out into a tube. She stood on a scale while a woman clucked over her.

"Breakfast will be at 7:15 but you don't have privileges to leave the unit for 24 hours, so they'll bring a tray up." Hannah nodded because she didn't know what else to do. She understood the words individually but couldn't put them together. She sat there staring, lost, until a hand waved near her face. "You can go sit in the patient lounge with the others," the woman instructed. Hannah stood up but didn't know what to do next. The woman sighed and led her to a room with plastic cushioned couches bolted to the floor. Five teens sat in the room, four playing a game with oversized cards, Uno? One girl with sad eyes and burns on her arms sat alone. In the background played Sabrina the Teenage Witch, apparently a show someone had decided teenagers liked. Hannah sat down near the girl with the burns.

"Hey, I'm your roommate," the girl said. Hannah remained silent. "Still in shock mode?"

"I guess," Hannah replied after some time, studying her hospital slippers.

"Is this your first time at the inn?" the girl asked. Hannah glanced up at her confused. "My mom cannot bring herself to say 'hospitalized' or 'psych ward' or 'insane asylum' or really be honest at all about where I am so she calls it 'the inn.' She asks if I'm feeling better after my time at the inn, as if I've been on vacation or at a spa," the girl said bitterly. She let out a snort and returned to her original question."So it's your first time at the inn?" Hannah nodded. "Welcome to the island of broken dolls then, where they half heartedly try to fix us. I'd say it gets easier, but it doesn't. You just get used to it."

"Lauren M.?" a man called from the door.

"Here," the girl with the burns said.

"Brad B.?" the man asked.

A boy at the table said "Here."

Jill P., Kevin T. and Patrick D. were all "here" as well.

"Hannah B.?" Lauren nudged Hannah, who slowly raised her hand. The man left and Hannah looked at Lauren M. with confusion.

"Attendance, every 15 minutes, to make sure none of us has escaped. They check on us every 15 when we sleep too unless you have a one to one," Lauren M. answered Hannah's unspoken question.

"Don't try to go near the doors or they'll keep you here longer," one of the boys at the table cut in.

"Don't say things like he just did or they'll keep you here longer," Jill P. warned. "Changing the color to green."

They sat and watched the clock tick by as the four at the table continued their game. Another episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch started. Years later when the vivid memory of this place had faded, banished to the back of her mind like a bad dream, she would still remember Sabrina the Teenage Witch and the smell of plastic. She would shudder at the sight of Melissa Joan Hart and couldn't stand to look at Uno cards. Hannah kept her eyes on the ground and Lauren M.'s shoes without laces. "Slut," "whore," loser," "freak," the voices whispered at first, crescendoing into screams, shouting at her with all their might.

"Breakfast," a different man said peeking into the room, breaking her reverie. They all exited the room and lined up with their backs against the wall while the man took attendance again. Six others joined them, all in various states of engagement with the world.

"Hannah B.?" the woman from this morning addressed her. "You can go back to the lounge. You'll be getting your meals up here." She shook her head as if Hannah was slow. Hannah watched as the line of teenagers filed through the doors which swung shut behind them. Locked. Hannah walked back to the room, standing silently by the wall while the tv continued. A younger woman came in with a tray for her and cleaned up the card game. Hannah stared at the tray. "Slut," "whore," "basket case," "weirdo."

"First day is the hardest," the young woman said interrupting Hannah's thoughts and pulled out a chair for Hannah to sit. Hannah examined the food in front of her with detached interest. It wouldn't be appetizing even if she was hungry, even if it didn't hurt to swallow, even if everything didn't hurt. "Slut," "whore," "you're here because you're crazy," "you don't deserve food."

"Hannah B.?" a voice asked from the door.

"Here," Hannah heard herself reply distantly. Then the opening of the white doors and a herd of footsteps announced the return from breakfast, quieter than a group of teenagers should be.

"It's time for group," the young woman who had given her the tray said cheerfully. Hannah decided she didn't like this woman. She preferred the mean woman to this fake cheerful bull shit. It was as if this woman was mocking her. "It's down the hallway past the rooms."

The group room had the same couches bolted to the floor but arranged in a circle. A picture of a tree was on the wall and the "hang in there" cat. 'That cat is now dead,' Hannah thought idly to herself. She looked around the room, trying to decide where to sit. There was a seat next to Lauren M., the girl with the sad eyes and burns, but would it be ok to sit there?

"Take a seat!" the obnoxiously cheerful young woman said. Hannah sat next to Lauren M. and spent the time studying her co-inmates as she picked at her paper pajamas.

On the other side sat Jill P., Brad B., Kevin T. and Patrick D, clustered together. Apparently cliques existed on the psych ward too. They looked like any four teenagers at her high school as they rolled their eyes and stuck together. Except here they were for the same reason she was, weren't they? A fidgety boy, Arthur T., sat with a man next to him. Occasionally the boy burst out in fits seemingly at random like a cat hunting invisible prey. She would have been terrified, if she could be terrified. None of the others sat next to him and they shrank away when he started shouting. There was Penny J. with long stringy hair who spoke rapidly, going on long interludes only loosely connect to the topic. She trailed off mid sentence to disappear into her own world, staring dumbly at the wall. Hannah wondered where Penny J.'s thoughts went and if it was nice there. Maybe Hannah could go there too. Mary L. had beautiful breads which swung around her head when she turned to look at James K. The cheerful woman running the group deferred to Mary L. They treated her like her presence here was an unfortunate mistake, a stumbling block on an otherwise smooth life. Hannah found out later she had been in one of these before, she would see Mary L. on the 'hotel circuit' again. James K. clearly belonged here, scars on his arms, long hair in his eyes so he didn't have to look at people. Everyone knew him, a frequent flyer they expected to see on the adult ward in a few years...maybe. He lit up when Mary L. looked at him as if he never thought someone as beautiful as her would ever think about him. Mary L. and James K. weren't allowed to even hold hands, but that didn't matter for this sort of thing. Romance on the psych ward, fueled by intense honesty that existed no where else. It was hard to be superficial here where your scars showed for all to see, your troubles were laid bare. There was no reason to hide here because you were here; there was no mistake or misunderstanding. You were an open wound, but so was everyone else. Hannah wondered if they would keep in touch. Could something so raw exist in the outside world? Mike H. on the other side of the circle seemed so young to be here. He didn't even look old enough to be in middle school. How could someone so young be here? He stared listlessly into space and woke everyone up at night with his screams. Jesse R. sat on the other side of Lauren M, hair dyed black and bags under her eyes, sweating and shaking. Pin pricks on her arms.

"Slut," "whore," "insane," "loser." Hannah looked at the ground at her own hospital slippers and the sneakers without shoelaces around the room. It somehow felt right that she was here, at the very bottom place you could go, among people like her. Locked in here, safe, but from who? The world? Themselves? Or was it that now the world was safe from them? How could this room hold so many damaged people in one place? Everyone stood to leave and Hannah followed mechanically.

"Hannah B.?" the mean woman called. Hannah went toward her and was led into a small office. "No visitors in the first 24 hours but your mom dropped off some clothes for you." She handed Hannah a stack of clothing.

"Thank you," Hannah uttered automatically.

"There is the issue of this," the mean woman said. She held up Hannah's favorite hoodie, a souvenir from camp many summers ago where she had met Cat and discovered the stars. The sleeves were fraying at the ends and the color was faded but it was her most beloved thing. "You can't have it with the string in the hood. Do you want me to give it back to your mother or would you prefer I removed the string?"

Oh.

Hannah stared at her, completely unsure how to answer. She wanted to remember a time when she was happy and the world was wonderful because right now it was hard to think anything could ever be ok again. Taking the string out would mean the hoodie would bear the mark of this place forever. Hannah felt tears well in her eyes. The mean woman handed her two books, no, one was her journal though she received no pen, and a piece of paper. On it was a bunny with a thought bubble over its head that just said "Hannah."

"So should I remove the string or should I return it?" the mean woman asked again. Hannah looked at her and nodded. Without a thought as to what she was destroying or really without a care, the woman pulled the cord out with quick efficiency, as if ripping off a bandaid. 'No! How could you!' Hannah wanted to yell, but she couldn't. She handed it to Hannah who clutched it to herself before following the woman out of the room. She was brought to a room and handed a tiny bottle of shampoo, a tiny bar of soap and a towel before being shown to a bathroom. Not subtle at all. "Give these back to me when you're finished. Tell us when you want to shower, at least every other day. I will wait out here but a female employee is available to stand in the room with you if needed."

Oh.

Hannah showered in silence, barely hearing "Hannah B.?" over the shower and thoughts. "Slut," "whore," "waste of time," "suicide risk." She put on her jeans and a t-shirt before finally her sweatshirt, trying to feel who she was through the material as if it could tell her. She just wanted to feel normal for one small second. She felt for the string to fiddle with it, but it was no longer there and would never be again. A new scar. She wanted to cry.

"You are expected to attend all group sessions as well as all meals when you get privileges to leave the unit. You will see the doctor every day and the social worker every three days. I'm going to take you to drop off your things in your room and then to see Dr. Hillman."

Hannah waited outside Dr. Hillman's door until Penny J.'s laceless sneakers padded past her pausing before the lounge as if to see if she would, just this once, be welcomed in that room.

"Hannah B.?" a voice from the room called belonging to a tired woman who once was beautiful with pink cat eye glasses. "Come in." Hannah did as instructed but didn't hear much of what was said. She heard "medication" and "takes time" and "here for a week and then we'll reevaluate." The woman tried to seem like she cared, but Hannah was pretty certain she and Dr. Hillman shared the same opinion, everything was bullshit. She tried to pay attention, but she hated herself too much. Hannah nodded appropriately or at least she tried.

"Hannah?" Dr. Hillman asked. Hannah looked up at her. "It will get easier. You'll settle in soon." Bull shit.

* * *

Title is a line from an Emily Dickinson poem. Chapter is based on a conglomeration of personal experiences/those of friends.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.** **Let me have some buds to cheer my outcast state**

It was lunch time and Hannah was left alone with her tray or near alone; they checked on her what seemed like every 5 minutes. Sabrina played in the background. The mean woman clucked over how much she had eaten. "If you don't eat on your own, we'll have someone sit with you. I'll have the doctor prescribe you shakes," the mean woman said. Hannah looked at her sneakers which kept slipping off.

Quiet time followed lunch, kind of like pre-school. Hannah half expected to be handed a mat to sleep on the ground in one large room but they were confined to rooms. She hated nap time as a child. Lauren M. slept while Hannah stared at the wall. She was out of sleep, out of energy, out of tears. She was out of everything. She was nothing, everything was gone. She pulled out the rabbit drawing from where she had tucked it in her journal. Clay. She wondered if he knew where she was and how he knew. She hadn't meant to hurt him. Waves of guilt washed over her. A new woman peeked her head in and checked silently their names off a list.

"Slut," "whore," "burden," "shame."

"What's that?" Lauren M. inquired, apparently having woken from her nap.

"Nothing," Hannah replied softly.

"From a friend?" Lauren M. asked. Hannah didn't answer. Lauren M. saw she would get nothing out of Hannah and changed the subject. "Make sure to say something during group but be careful what you say or they'll keep you here longer."

"How many times have you been here?"

"At this one? This is my second time. This place is mediocre. Food is better than some of the others." Hannah raised an eyebrow and Lauren M. laughed before continuing, "And they actually have stuff here. I've been at four others. Some of them you just sit in the lounge and stare at the TV all day."

"How long have you been here?"

"Today is Thursday?" Lauren M. guessed. Hannah shrugged one shoulder. "Then I guess ten days? They say I'll be ready to leave tomorrow but I doubt that's true. They've been telling me 'in two days' for a week. My insurance runs out after two weeks so we'll see what happens."

"Hannah B.? Time to meet with the social worker," the obnoxiously cheerful woman said poking in her in the room. Hannah's hatred for her rose. There, that was a feeling, wasn't it? "Lauren M., you're after her." Hannah followed the woman. She wanted to run but there was no where to go. She glanced at the locked doors.

The social worker was a kind-faced man, still young, the years here hadn't rubbed the optimism off him yet, something Hannah would not realize until years later. He asked her about why she was here (she had no opinion on that so she shrugged), about her friends, about her goals (none), about her school. He talked about setting her up with a psychiatrist and therapist (she had no opinion on that either so she shrugged again) and finding out what resources were available at her school. He told her she needed to develop resiliency skills. She didn't know what that meant but she nodded anyway which seemed generally like the correct response in this place. Nod along to what they say and it'll be over soon.

Hannah lined up for the first of many times for nighttime meds, back against the wall with the rest of them as they waited their turns like in kindergarten. Each cocktail of colored pills came in a small white cup with an accompanying pixie cup with water. Her pill was white. It was small. How could a pill so small help her? She swallowed, half expecting something magical to happen. A fairy godmother waves a wand, magic swirls around her and she would suddenly be better? She opened her mouth for an aid to check. Lauren M. told her they drew blood levels every few days to make sure they were taking their meds. Bedtime was at nine and found Hannah staring at the ceiling for hours.

Hannah went down to the cafeteria with the others the next day for breakfast. She watched as the white doors opened for them and then closed after they passed through. It was a hollow sound; she knew she would be back. In the cafeteria she looked around at the little kids and the adults, separated from the teens. The same horrible eggs here as upstairs.

Her parents visited. "How are you doing, sweetie?" her father asked. She wanted to smile and tell them she was all better, this place was a mistake, but she had lost all her words and she didn't know how to smile. Her father stared at her arms and she pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down.

"We've been able to talk to Mr. Jenkins, such a lovely man," her mother said after a few minutes of nervous chatting about the pharmacy and looking like she wanted to cry. Who was Mr. Jenkins? The social worker? "He's coming up with some names for psychiatrists and such that take our insurance. Hopefully you'll be right as rain soon!"

"Oh, we brought this for you," her father said, withdrawing a folded drawing from his pocket. "Clay has come over every day to bring these." He handed the paper to Hannah who clutched it tightly. An outburst, likely Arthur T., in the hallway broke the silence. Footsteps passed by the room. Her parents jumped and shrank back slightly from the door, in case it was contagious. They laughed nervously as if to say 'at least our kid isn't _that_ crazy.' They chatted for a few minutes more before they were interrupted by a nurse at the door. Hannah had to see Dr. Hillman now, did they want to come? Hannah wondered why no one asked her if she wanted them there but she supposed she didn't really have an opinion on that so it didn't matter anyway.

"It's so lovely to see such involved parents," Dr. Hillman said. "We've started Hannah on an antidepressant called a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor or an SSRI. Unfortunately it can take a while to kick in so we'll be monitoring her."

"When can she come home?" her mother asked. "It's spring break but school starts back up next week. Will she have to miss school?"

"We reevaluate every day and when it looks like this episode is lifting we'll start making plans. Even when she's home, she won't be 'out of the woods' completely."

Hannah disliked that they were talking to her as if she wasn't here but she didn't really have anything to add to the conversation. "Slut," "whore," "crazy," "medicated." They talked more and Hannah didn't bother trying to follow. Then she watched her parents leave through that door and she could not follow them. They could come and go but she must stay. Trapped. Her dreams would be haunted by those doors tonight.

In the privacy of her room, while Lauren M. slept, she saw it was a bunny standing in a desert, its paw raised to its head as if searching. The sun was setting in the distance. Above the rabbit's head was a thought bubble, "Hannah."

* * *

Title from Shut Out by Christina Rossetti


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13. So I was not lost or found**

Mary L. left early on Friday, just after breakfast. "See you on the outside," she wished them though they probably never would. James K. tried to hide his tears but Hannah heard him sobbing into his pillow when she passed his room. Brad B. left on Saturday. "Did my time," he said to Kevin T. as he left.

She told Dr. Hillman about the voices which continued to haunt her, often drowning out what other people were saying. Lauren M. said that was a mistake. "They'll keep you in here longer," Lauren M. warned. "If you seem at all like you're crazy they'll keep you in here. If you protest, they'll make you involuntarily. They did that to me once."

What did the voices say? "Slut," "whore" always. "Ugly," "worthless," "pathetic," "bitch," "waste," "stupid." Were the voices inside her head or outside? Inside. One voice or multiple? Mostly one, her own, but sometimes if someone said something to her, it was that one too. Did she only get them when she was feeling bad or other times too? Only when she was feeling sad or numb. Dr. Hillman nodded sagely and seemed relieved. She asked Hannah about her sleep. She prescribed Hannah another drug to take in addition to the white pill, tiny and pink. This one she felt immediately. Hannah slept soundly and woke up groggy until past lunch. The voices stopped but she didn't feel better.

Her parents visited every day and said they were happy with her progress; Dr. Hillman had been updating them. Hannah was glad someone was. Everyday they brought a drawing from Clay who stopped by every day. The rabbit traveled to different locations, the city, the ocean, on a mountain, always searching, always thinking "Hannah." She kept the drawings together in order. Every day they visited and every day they left and the door closed behind them, locking her here in this world.

On Sunday Lauren M. left and Hannah got a new roommate, a girl even quieter than Hannah but that was fine. She missed Lauren M., sort of, but she was glad for the quiet. The only question the girl, Brittney G., asked her was "How long have you been in for?" as if this was a prison but that's how they all talked, those who had been here before. Brittney G. cried herself to sleep every night.

Hannah's thoughts were slow and tired but no longer competing with the voices. She didn't know if this was better. Dr. Hillman told her this pill wasn't forever, only until her mood got better, whatever that meant.

On Thursday they told her that she was leaving on Saturday. She wondered how they came to that arbitrary conclusion Hannah didn't know, but she was bored. She solemnly swore she no longer wanted to die and it was 90% true. She didn't really want to die, but she didn't really care about living.

Her mom picked her up. The doors opened for them and then closed. Somehow it sounded different than every other time. The sun touched her cheek and the breeze rustled her hair. Hannah realized she hadn't been outside since she'd come here. Her mother handed Hannah another rabbit drawing; this time the rabbit stood under a sky with the big and little dipper, leading him on. Clay was waiting by his phone in case she wanted him to be at home when they got there but it was completely fine if she didn't. He understood. Hannah was unsure she wanted to be around anyone at all but she nodded anyway.

When they arrived he was sitting on the stoop, his hair a mess from the helmet next to him. He stood when their car drove up and opened the door for her.

"Hannah," Clay said quietly. She stepped out and accepted his hand in hers. She'd shrunk away from her parents' hugs but somehow this was ok. He led her inside. "Where do you want to go?" She couldn't answer so he led her to her room and she collapsed onto her bed. He brought out his laptop, setting it up so she could see it from her position on the bed. She looked at it confused. He pulled up Pirates of the Caribbean and went to grab something from her closet, her Disney snuggie. "Is this ok?" he asked before he put it over her. She nodded even though tears began to silently trail down her cheeks. His face scrunched up, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Hannah managed to say. "I love you."

"I love you too." He pressed play on the movie and settled next to her, almost touching but not quite. She reached out a hand and found his. They stayed like that until the movie ended and he played the next one. He fell asleep in the middle of the second one. Hannah's parents came in during the third one with dinner on trays. They sat on the ground and Clay on the bed. Hannah couldn't sit up, having used up everything she had, so she sipped on an Ensure through a straw. She took her meds and Clay slept on the floor by her bed. She fell asleep to the sound of soft snoring. Maybe it would be ok.

* * *

Title from After All by Dar Williams


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: I'm shrunk**

"Hey, it's my last day," Mary L., no, now just Mary, told Hannah when group ended. They had ended up in the same intensive outpatient program (IOP), turns out Mary lived only fifteen minutes from Hannah. "They decided I have graduated to once a week therapy." She twirled her hair absently, now styled in small twists.

"Congrats," Hannah said, trying to to summon appropriate feelings and almost succeeding.

"You'll get there too," Mary assured her, sensing the mood of her friend by necessity and shared experience. "You'll see. It's shitty, but it's not forever. It's hardest waiting for the meds to really kick in, believe me. At least you didn't go manic on them. That happened to me. The bp meds are a whole different set." Hannah nodded though she didn't really understand.

"Any word from James?" Hannah asked changing the subject. James had gotten out two days before Hannah did so he should be home and back in the real world.

"No, I gave him my email but no word," Mary said. "I checked the obits online but nothing so I guess that's good. Unfortunately James Kim is a common name so it's impossible to find him." Hannah nodded.

"Hannah B.? Dr. Kaufman is ready for you," an aid said. Mary touched Hannah's shoulder briefly. They'd exchanged emails but Hannah was certain she'd never see Mary in the outside world. Despite the fact that Mary understood all Hannah had gone through, that Mary had been there too, it was too much to see her in a different context. Mary was her touchstone into the crazy world she'd entered, a painful reminder of that place and now this place. Hannah followed the aid into the room she was familiar with now. The doctors changed every week. Always the same questions. Didn't they take notes? Couldn't they just consult each other. Did she really need to be here?

"Hello Hannah, it's nice to meet you," Dr. Kaufman said. "I'm the doctor on today and next week so we'll be seeing each other. I'd like to get to know you today." She had small, round glasses she kept pushing up her nose and curly reddish hair that kept escaping from her bun. She looked like a little girl playing dress up as a psychiatrist.

"Hi," Hannah said.

"So let's just dive in. This is your first time taking medication for depression?" Hannah nodded. "And how is it going? Any side effects?" Hannah shook her head.

"How is your mood?"

What exactly did that mean? Hannah wondered. She had been asked that so many times and she still had no idea. What was the correct answer? Good? Bad? Up? Down? What did that mean when she felt nothing?

"Fine," Hannah answered.

"Hannah…"

"Neutral, I guess. I don't know."

"How is your energy level? Is it getting better?"

"I think so."

"How is your sleep? How many hours are you sleeping every night?"

"10 hours," Hannah replied. The pink pill wasn't as bad as it was before but she still struggled to wake up every day. She then spent the morning slow brained and groggy.

"Any thoughts of harming yourself or others?"

"No." That was mostly true. When she was on a bridge, all she could think about was jumping so she stopped walking across bridges if she had a choice, even if it meant the long way home. They had to cross a bridge to school if Clay walked her instead of driving. She made sure Clay was closer to the edge. She didn't know if he picked on that. She counted on how dense he could be more than ever though now he watched her like a hawk, they all did.

Only Tony, who found out when they needed an emergency person to 'watch her,' looked at her normally. Since then, he came by every few days after school or when their free periods lined up. He didn't treat her as if she was a princess in a glass tower like Clay did who always was afraid he'd say the wrong thing. Tony treated her as if she was normal Hannah and carried on his half of the conversation even if she couldn't respond.

"I'm sorry," she said once. "I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, you're doing great. You'll get it," he'd replied and proceeded to tell her about some changes he was making to his mustang.

"Are you still experiencing the, um, voices?" Dr. Kaufman inquired, looking at her notes to make sure she had read that right and breaking Hannah's reverie.

"No," Hannah replied, recalled back to the present.

"Good, maybe we can do a trial off the seroquel in a few months." Hannah nodded. "I understand this was likely not your first episode? That you've experienced depression before? When was your first episode?" Hannah really wished they'd consult each other. She'd answered this question so many times.

"I don't know," Hannah said, which was true.

"You don't remember the first time you felt down like this?" Hannah shook her head. "Have you tried to hurt yourself in the past?" That depended on your definition of 'hurt yourself' but she shook her head again. Dr. Kaufman sighed. "Can you tell me about this recent episode?"

"I just...couldn't keep living. It was too much," Hannah said. She couldn't put into words what she had felt, her despair, the future sinking in front of her into a black hole, the feeling that it would like that forever. Hannah couldn't bear the thought that it would be like this forever. It was too long. They sat for a while before Dr. Kaufman realized she was getting nowhere and moved on.

"How is the program going for you? Do you feel like it is helping?"

"It's fine." Hannah had been here, at the intensive outpatient (IOP) for two weeks, three days a week, three hours each time and she was tired of it. It took so much energy.

"So how is school going?" Dr. Kaufman asked. Hannah shrugged. "No, I need more of an answer than that."

"It's fine," Hannah replied. She'd gone back to school that Monday with the story of a nasty stomach bug to explain her week long absence. She didn't know if anyone bought it but not one asked. Mr. Porter had met with her regularly even though she didn't know what to say. He knew the real story, wanted to know what he could do. He kept asking her that and she still didn't know.

"How are your classes? They've lightened your schedule?" Hannah nodded. She would need to make up some work over summer break but for now it was more manageable.

"Are you able to keep up with your homework?" She was, kind of. Hannah came home and collapsed to stare at the ceiling. She did homework in 30 minute bursts with hours in between. Someone, usually Clay, sat with her always, concerned eyes when she lay down to regather energy. She had traded the prison of the psych ward for one in her home. A prisoner on house arrest.

Dr. Kaufman sighed, frustrated. "Hannah, I need more from you. We cannot help you unless you open up. We're not your enemy." Hannah would hear a similar speech many times over the next few years from many doctors. She didn't want to be difficult; she wanted to 'open up.' She wanted to cooperate, be "helpful." She just didn't have any words. She didn't know how to articulate what was happening to her.

"I'm trying," Hannah said as tears started pouring down her cheeks. She hadn't realized she could cry anymore. Her struggle must have been evident on her face as Dr. Kaufman took pity on her. "I know things are hard right now but they will get better." Dr. Kaufman looked at her watch. "We're out of time. I look forward to working with you next week. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

I'm Shrunk is by Aesop Rock, a rapper who talks a lot about his struggle with mental illness including in 'Kirby,' an incredibly adorable song about how awesome his cat is.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15.** **Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.**

Clay waited in the car outside the grey building. Hannah's parents had given him free use of their old car so he could pick her up from her program. Today was her last day here, three weeks after she had started. Starting next week she would just have weekly sessions with the psychiatrist and the therapist, scheduled around Clay's shifts at the Claremont so he could drive her. They'd requested a temporary break for Hannah, saying she needed to focus on school for a while.

It had been five weeks since she had started medication and she was getting better, Clay thought, though he had to look closely to see it. Every day she could go a little longer before collapsing. She was able to shower. She participated more in class, usually just a comment here or there, but more and more. She moved more purposefully, not as if stuck in quicksand. Her words came out more clearly and almost at normal speed. She even smiled once. Clay hung his hope on that smile.

Hannah finally trudged out of the building just as Clay finished his SAT prep chapter. She got in the car without a word and he turned on the music as usual. She slumped in the seat, always especially drained after her time at the program. The rest of the night would be a wash homework wise for her but Mr. Porter had somehow arranged with her teachers to change deadlines around the days she was here. The school didn't exactly strike him as accommodating but Clay guessed they didn't exactly want to deal with the PR nightmare of not special needs. They already had weathered Jeff's accident with a crackdown on parties and with many, many assemblies.

Clay tried not to think about his friend. He'd been so wrapped up in Hannah that he hadn't been spent much time with Jeff. He still saw Jeff for tutoring, even more now since the accident actually. Jeff became frustrated more quickly, his fists balling up paper as he tried to work on math problems. He was quicker to anger. Clay was at a loss, completely helpless against Jeff's brain injury. Clay was not good at being helpless. He looked at every problem and broke it down, tackling the manageable pieces but he couldn't begin to tackle what Jeff was going through, especially with his mind on Hannah. So he focused on what he could do, breaking it down into small steps. Clay could pick her up from appointments and he could make sure she ate and he could sit with her as she gathered up the strength to face the world. He threw himself into her and her recovery because it was what he could do.

"Clay," Hannah said softly, so soft he nearly didn't hear her over the music. He turned it down, wondering if he had made it up. She never spoke after her time at the program and was usually withdrawn for hours.

"Yea?" he asked cautiously, hoping to keep her going, that she actually had spoken aloud.

"Can we go to our spot?" she asked. He hesitated, would that be ok for her? And he had homework. He felt bad about that thought; he shouldn't think about something like that. His homework didn't matter if it meant Hannah was better. "Forget about it," Hannah said quietly.

"No," he said emphatically. "I'd like that." He changed direction and drove the car down the paths to their spot; the place where they had had their first real date and had gone back many times.

Clay grabbed the blanket from the trunk, left in the car from their last trip here over month ago when things had still been ok. It felt like such a distant memory. It had been an unusually warm Northern Californian day in late February ('yay global warming,' Hannah had commented) and too beautiful to waste. They'd brought their jackets and hot chocolate and enjoyed the view. Clay remembered the beauty of the day, perfect in the rosy vision of memory. It was the last time they had been really happy before all this had happened.

He wondered, as he had many times already and would many times over the next several years, what he could have done to prevent this. Why did this happen? He still couldn't understand why she had wanted to die. Had she wanted to leave him that bad? He knew that wasn't true but he couldn't help thinking it. The questions stretched into eternity. Was he not enough? Were they had not enough? What could he do better? How could he protect her from the demons which haunted her? How could he keep her safe? Why did she want to die?

They walked up the path together, holding hands but not speaking. At the top Clay spread out the blanket. As Hannah settled herself, Clay quickly texted Olivia (how strange to call Hannah's parents by their first names) so she wouldn't worry. These days the slightest deviation from Hannah's schedule could sent Andy and Olivia into a frenzy. At the program orientation they had been told it was important to provide structure. They clung desperately to anything they were told might help even a little bit. He thought they'd gone a bit overboard but it made sense, he would do everything, anything if it meant Hannah got better.

They sat in silence as the sun set. She lay down as the stars began to appear above them. Clay joined her and tried not to show his surprised when she moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She didn't like touch from anyone and hadn't tolerated more than holding his hand since before the hospital.

"Tell me about the stars," he said after a while and held his breath in anticipation of her response. It was a risk. Would she shut down? Should he have not asked that? She looked at him and then looked back at the sky. Stupid, one day he would learn not to put his foot in his mouth. He opened his mouth to apologize when Hannah moved even closer to him and raised her hand slowly so he could see where she pointed, like she had done so many times before all this.

"You can still kinda see the winter hexagon in the early evening," Hannah whispered. "Rigel, Aldebaran, Capella, Pollux, Procyon, and Sirius." She pointed at each one as she named them, almost as if she were bestowing the names upon them. "It's an asterism, not a proper constellation." She told him about each of the stars, Sirius was the dog star because it was in Canis Major, which actually looked like a dog to Clay as opposed to Canis Minor which was just a line. Did they have hot dog dogs in ancient Greece? The thought of the tiny dogs running around after people in togas made him smile. "You can still see Gemini." She went quiet, speaking so much made her tired. She closed her eyes, in exhaustion or what he didn't know.

"One day we'll go see the aurora," Clay promised her, a comment seemly out of nowhere but she nodded in understanding. One day it would be better. Maybe one day she'd be normal again. Hannah wasn't sure that was true, but she hoped and he hoped too. That meant everything. They looked into each other's eyes and he leaned his down to kiss her, softly, hesitantly, preparing to be pushed away and steeling himself not to take it personally but she accepted it before turning her gaze back upward. "Tell me about Gemini?"

She smiled, just a twitch of her lips but his heart jumped. It was her star sign; her birthday was June 20th. It was thus her favorite constellation though she always insisted, "I don't believe in astrology, only astronomy."

"Gemini are the twins, Castor and Pollux, the sons of Leda, the queen of Sparta," Hannah began. She told him about their adventures on the Argo and how Pollux, the divine son of Zeus, could not bear to be separated from his mortal twin when Castor died so they shared Pollux's immortality and were placed together in the sky. She had him all this before but he reveled in hearing it again, in hearing her speak. Sparks of who she was shined in the darkness, brighter than any star in the night sky.

* * *

 **Incredibly cliche quote is obviously Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16.** **Psychotherapy is a sanctuary; it is a battleground; it is a place I have been psychotic, neurotic, elated, confused, and despairing beyond belief. But, always, it is where I have believed–or have learned to believe–that I might someday be able to contend with all of this.**

"Hi, I'm Dr. Lee," said the woman with short spiky black hair. She shook Hannah's parents' hands before standing back from the door to her office to let Hannah in. Her parents started to follow but Dr. Lee stopped them. "I would prefer at this time to just meet with Hannah and when she's ready, we'll have a family session." Olivia Baker opened her mouth to protest but Dr. Lee pressed on, "Family sessions are very important but I like to establish a therapeutic relationship with the patient first."

"This is different from the psychiatrist," Andrew Baker protested.

"Yes," Dr. Lee said and smiled. "We will see you after the session."

She followed Hannah into the room and gestured for Hannah to sit in a comfortable chair. It was worn but not ratty, like a chair you might have in your room since childhood. There was a desk and a couch but Dr. Lee took the chair near Hannah's. It was a welcoming room, almost like one in someone's house and not in an office park.

"Everything you say here is confidential unless you tell me you have a plan to hurt yourself or someone else. This is so we can keep everyone safe. I will not tell your parents or anyone else what you say. I may take notes for myself unless you prefer I didn't. I keep them in a locked cabinet but you are always welcome to come in and look at them," Dr. Lee said matter of factly. Hannah was surprised, she'd been told some of this before but never so plainly.

That first session they barely talked. Dr. Lee didn't ask her the million questions Hannah had already gotten from every doctor she'd already seen. Dr. Lee didn't smile at her with the patronizing grin of her psychiatrist, Dr. P. He talked directly to her parents, only glancing at Hannah occasionally as if she was in the way of his conversation. He'd told everything to her parents, a 'to-do' list to get better. If they followed these seven simple steps, this would all go away and Hannah would be normal again. Dr. Lee instead reminded Hannah of a sloth or perhaps a snorlax. She sat back with her hands in her lap, forming an O like the character from the anime Clay and Cat had made Hannah watch.

Hannah barely noticed the time go by, lost in her own thoughts, until Dr. Lee said, "Well, I think that's the time we have. I think we have another session later in the week? I like to see people frequently at first or if something is going on."

"But you didn't ask me any questions," Hannah said.

Dr. Lee shrugged. "Sometimes you just need to sit for a while. You'll talk when you have something to say and you are ready to say it. I'll be here to listen when you are." Hannah looked at Dr. Lee for a long minute, nodded and left.

Olivia Baker was sitting anxiously in the waiting room, worrying a newspaper in her hands. In the car, she asked, "How did you like Dr. Lee? We can find someone else. I don't know what that whole business at the beginning was."

"No, she's good," Hannah replied and looked out the window. Olivia continued to pepper her with questions all the way home.

;

"How was the week?" Dr. Lee asked at the start of their second session. Hannah shrugged and Dr. Lee nodded, settling back into her position with her hands forming an 'O' on her lap. They sat for a while until words punctuated the silence. Hannah was surprised to find that they emanated from her own mouth.

"Why am I so messed up?" Hannah asked, looking at her own hands. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Dr. Lee turn toward her almost imperceptibly. "Why can't I just be normal?" Dr. Lee remained silent, holding the space. "How do I stop being so messed up?

Dr. Lee looked at her, making eye contact for the first time in the whole appointment. "I don't have an answer to that."

"Then why am I here?" Hannah yelled. She wanted to scream, to tear out her hair. She wanted to be done with all this. She wanted to be told what she should do so she could go back to being normal. She was so tired of all of this. "Aren't I here so you can tell me how to stop being so messed up?"

Dr. Lee shook her head. "No Hannah, that's not why you're here. There's no manual for getting better or a connect the dots. I can't tell you how to heal. You're here to figure that out for yourself." Dr. Lee paused, choosing her words deliberately. "I'm just here to help you." Hannah chewed that over for several minutes. "So why do you think you are 'messed up?' Your phrase, not mine,'" Dr. Lee asked.

"They told me it's just chemicals. That I don't have enough of one type of chemical in my brain or something. They said that if they figure out the right medications that it will go away and I'll better," Hannah said.

"That is certainly the scientific explanation and certainly a piece of it. Medication is an important part of treatment for many." Dr. Lee paused. "But what do you think?"

Hannah remained silent for a while. "I don't know," she said quietly. "Why can't I think? Why am I so stupid? I don't know."

"Feeling stupid is important because it tells you what you don't know and it's always good to figure out what you don't know. Not knowing is a good place to start."

* * *

Quote at the top is from An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison which is your summer reading. Character referenced is Shikamaru from Naruto.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17. They want full measure of all your pleasure, but they do not need your woe**

"Hey, anyone sitting here?" Hannah asked holding her bag. She'd spotted him sitting by himself during free period. It was weird to see him alone, not surrounded by his crowd of friends. Everyone loved him, but maybe it had been like this for a while and she just hadn't noticed. Her world had shrunk so small and only now was it widening, expanding slowly each day, encompassing new people and new ideas. It was like one those distorted photos, only that was in the small circle was clear and the world beyond blurry before comprehension. The in focus circle was growing and she wondered how she had ever forgotten.

"Oh, hey Hannah," Jeff said, looking up from his book and putting down his highlighter.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your studying," Hannah apologized.

"It's ok, I needed a break," he said. Hannah realized that for all he was one of Clay's friends, they'd never really had a conversation. So much had happened this year.

"How have you been?" Hannah asked.

"Been better, been worse," he said with a shrug and an attempt at lightness. "How are you?"

"Just about the same," she agreed. "What were you reading?"

"English lit, Great Expectations but it's all Greek to me," Jeff said. "I thought I had a hard time before but the bop on the head didn't help." Jeff laughed though it wasn't funny but Hannah understood.

"We just finished that one," Hannah replied kindly. "Threw me for a loop too. I think when we talk about Dickens, we think too much about Christmas Carol and forget he was paid by the word to be confusing."

"Incentivized to confuse high school juniors everywhere?" Jeff added, gratefully accepting her kindness.

"I think it would probably bring him great joy to realize that he has single-handedly tortured millions of 17 year olds across the United States with little regard for their desire for a straightforward story."

"I like how he has to beat us over the head with Miss Havisham. Everything is dying, rotting and falling apart, I get it!" he laughed.

"I objected to the characterization of the stars as cold and cruel," Hannah said.

"Stars?"

"Estella?"

"Ah," Jeff nodded.

"Damn Hannah, back to your old ways!" Justin yelled across the room as he passed by the door with his posse.

"Or planning some sort of three way action with Jensen?"

"Getting a piece of that ass Atkins? Can you even still get it up?"

Jeff hung his head. Apparently being a jock didn't exempt you from the cruelty of others. Before he'd always had a knowing smirk on his face and a smile that proclaimed that all was right with the world because Jeff Atkins was in it. Any harsh words had bounced off him. But that was before. He was so alone now and thus vulnerable in a way he had never been before.

Hannah was fairly certain Justin and his friends wouldn't be saying it if the baseball team was here. Though the extent of cruelty shocked her, the reach of kindness surprised her even more. Jocks they were, but the baseball team protected their own, even one who could no longer play. They had made it clear that Jeff was still one of them but they couldn't be with him always.

"Ignore it," Hannah said quietly though her face was burning. That was the subtle advantage of being a loser; you got used to it. A traitor part of Hannah admitted that it still hurt no matter how many times you heard it. Every comment ate away at another part of her. They were small bites but they added up. Justin and his crew laughed and walked on though Jeff still looked defeated.

"It's really shitty people say those things to you," Jeff said, staring into the distance. "I guess they've been saying them to you for a while, huh?" He looked genuinely sad, as if just realizing this had been happening to her.

"Yea, but don't worry about it. I'm used to it," she said.

"It's still not right," he insisted. "It's still shitty. Man, I'm so sorry I'd never really noticed before." Jeff looked at Hannah. She smiled slightly and patted his hand.

"Thanks," she replied. "How have you been?" The question was a repeat, but she wanted a real answer this time.

"Shitty. I'm really shitty. I am so goddamned tired of being told to be patient and that it'll get better. I'm so goddamned tired of having trouble concentrating as if it wasn't hard enough to sit through class before. I'm tired of being a fucking after school special about the perils of underage drinking! I just wanted to go back to how I was before. I want to play fucking baseball! I just want to be able to do one fucking thing that makes me feel normal again." He brought his hands up to cover his face. Hannah watched the second hand of the clock on the wall make it around 5 times.

"Jeff…"

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry," he said.

"No, I understand," Hannah replied.

"How? How do you understand?" Jeff asked staring at the table, anger and frustration radiating off him. "How can you understand?"

"I have depression," the words poured out of her mouth. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, her parents had told her not to, but the words came out of their own volition.

"What?" Jeff asked, looking her in the eye for the first time since their conversation had been interrupted by Justin.

"Yea, that's why I was out in March." She definitely was not supposed to tell him that. "I was in the hospital."

"Jesus Hannah, are you ok?" Jeff asked.

"Yes," she said smiling wanly. She shook her head. She couldn't lie to him of all people because he might just understand. "No. I'm not ok, but I'm working on it."

"Yea. It's all you can do." He looked down at his book. "What are you on? Sorry, should not have asked that. Impulse control."

"Lexapro. 10 mg. Possibly increasing next week if I am not 'making progress.'" She made air quotes with her fingers and smiled at her own gesture. Jeff let out a snicker. "Also Seroquel but we're cutting back on that. That's why I'm a zombie before lunch."

"Like driving a stick shift, down on one, up on the other. I'm on fun drugs too. 'Mood disorders are common in the setting of traumatic brain injury,'" he said, also using air quotes, sending Hannah into giggles. "I did lexapro briefly but now prozac for me. Do you get weird dreams on lexapro?" Jeff asked. "I swear every night I had the craziest dreams."

"Not yet but now I'm intrigued." They laughed.

"Thanks," Jeff said.

"For what?"

"For talking to me like I'm not about to break. Everyone tiptoes around me. They're afraid of setting me off. It's nice to know there's someone I can just talk to."

"Back at you. I didn't realize I could laugh about all this shit. I almost feel normal again."

"I don't know if old normal is ever going to happen again, but it's nice to think that maybe there will be a new normal," Jeff said. "So tell me, what has Clay been up to?"

Hannah regaled Jeff with a humorous story about Clay's ongoing war with the Claremont's popcorn machine and how he'd smelled like burnt butter for an entire week after a particularly bad battle. They talked until the bell rang when Clay showed up to collect Hannah and walk her to lunch.

"Bye Hannah!" Jeff said as Hannah packed up. "You'll make it through."

"I'll let you know if I get weird those lexapro dreams you told me about," she replied.

"I look forward to the update."

"What did you tell him?" Clay asked Hannah when they exited the library and were out of hearing range of overly curious classmates. "Hannah, you have to be careful about who you tell. People talk. You don't want this to get out and then it's worse. All the stupid Justins, they'll just get worse."

"You're right," Hannah said. "I should be more careful but it was Jeff."

Clay sighed. "No, you're right. Jeff is a good guy; he won't tell anyone." He took her hand in his. "Want to go and sit on the grass? Tony said he'd meet us there and then give us a ride to grab pizza. Oh, I saved you a brownie from what Courtney Crimson brought in for history class." He offered her the brownie, wrapped carefully in a napkin. She smiled and took it from him.

"Pizza and a brownie sounds like a lovely, nutritious meal," she said with a smirk.

"You could put kale on your pizza. That would balance out the brownie," Clay offered, making Hannah laugh. They swung hands as they headed outside.

* * *

Quote is from Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18. Their loss is no disaster**

"Clay, you cannot be serious right now," Lainie Jensen said. Clay's father stood by, arms crossed, in his eternal role as silent referee. "You've wanted to go to Harvard's summer scholar's program for years! It'll help you have your pick of colleges. 85% of the students go to an Ivy or a top liberal arts college or a top state university. You worked so hard for this!"

"Well, it isn't that important," Clay retorted. "It's not as if this is the be all end all of going to college."

"So what are you going to do this summer then? Work at the Crestmont? What kind of plan is that? You were so excited, what happened?"

"I'm going to do EMT training. I can volunteer next year. It will look good for college. I have a plan!"

"EMT training? Seriously? Being an EMT is certainly a fine thing to do but since when were you ever interested in that? Where is this coming from?"

"It's coming from me. It'll look good on college applications."

"Not as good as the Harvard summer scholar's program," Lainie Jensen sighed and crossed her arms. "What is this about?"

"It's about me. You just want to continue controlling me. You treat me like a child!"

"That's because you are a child and you are certainly acting like one," Lanie Jensen reported. She paused. "This is about Hannah, isn't it," his mother accused him. "You just want to stay around here for Hannah."

"That is not true," Clay retorted.

"Oh really? When did you have this great idea to become an EMT? Before or after her breakdown in March?"

"That's unfair."

"Is it? You're asking me to watch my son walk away an opportunity he worked really hard for. You worked hard for this for years!"

"Fine, it's about Hannah. So what? She's my girlfriend and I want to be with her. So what if I want to spend the summer with her?"

"It's ridiculous! It starts with your summer then what? You're going to change your entire life plan to stay near your girlfriend? Don't be stupid Clay!" Lainie Jensen yelled.

"You're overreacting. It's just the summer. I'm going to be late for meeting up with Hannah and Tony," Clay grumbled, going to grab his coat.

"Don't walk away from me! This conversation is not over!" Lainie Jensen shouted at his back. "You're throwing away your hard work!" Clay walked outside and sat on the curb, out of sight of the windows.

 _Can you come get me a bit early?_ he texted Tony.

 _Sure thing_ Tony replied.

Tony pulled up a few minutes later, Brad in the front seat. Clay turned to look at his house, eyes falling onto his bike where it sat on the porch, gathering dust. He'd put it there because the tire busted two months ago.

"Hannah banana? We're on our way to pick you up," Tony said into his phone before hanging up to start the car. "So what's up that you needed the early pick up?"

"Just arguing with my parents. I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"Ok man," Tony replied with a shrug. Brad turned the stereo on and they drove to Hannah's house.

"You ready to go?" Clay asked, greeting her at her door with a kiss.

"Yup," Hannah replied. "Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" she yelled back at the house behind her, shouldering her purse and letting Clay lead her out the door. He opened the car door for her and closed it behind her after she slid in. Tony set off for the Crestmont.

"Isn't it closed tonight?" Hannah asked as they pulled in front of the theater.

"Private party, I just need to check on something before we shove off," Clay explained. "Actually it'll be a few minutes, George asked me to make sure the popcorn machine hasn't exploded again. You may want to wait in the lobby."

"Why not?" Brad said, getting out of the car and heading in with Clay. Tony shrugged and offered his arm to a confused Hannah, escorting her into the movie theater.

Hannah squealed with joy when she saw the lobby, every inch decorated with balloons and streamers and a big banner that said, "Happy Birthday Hannah!" Clay handed the surprised Hannah a plastic champagne glass.

"To Hannah, who we can all agree is the best girl in the world. Happy birthday!" Clay proclaimed they all raised their glasses and took a sip of their sparkling cider. Clay gave Hannah a kiss on the cheek.

"Every birthday girl needs a crown," Brad proclaimed, handing Clay a plastic and rhinestone tiara. He placed it on her head, arranging it in her hair and tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Mi'lady," Clay said, taking one of Hannah's hands and kissing her knuckles and setting Hannah off into a round of giggles.

"Movie time?" Tony asked and they entered the theater. Clay ran up to the booth to start the movie, the live action Beauty and the Beast. It was a year old but despite being a fan of the animated movie, Hannah still hadn't seen it. She sang along to the songs and smiled through the whole thing. Clay put his arm around her and she snuggled into his chest. She looked up at him and smiled.

;

"So I get that in the cartoon they made the human beast look like Fabio, because, the nineties, but it was so weird to see live human Fabio look-alike in weird pseudo French period clothing," Hannah observed over burgers and fries after the movie.

"At least they fixed the weird child stranger-danger aspect," Clay offered. "Kinda weird to expect a kid home alone to host a rando stranger."

"Can we talk about how it was a dick move on the enchantress' part to punish a ton of people because their employer was an asshole? There would be so many people walking around as computers or desk chairs if we employed that logic in today's world," Brad said.

"I wonder if there were any servants who were like 'You know, I kinda liked being a talking wardrobe,'" Hannah said. "Being able to shoot your keys as weapons seems pretty handy."

"Or what if Belle liked Beast better as the weird animal thing," Tony said. "I always found human beast a bit of a let down."

"Or the decorating aesthetic prior to the instant redecorating," Brad said.

"Did they have to go to IKEA to get all new furniture after? First test of Belle and Beast's relationship, building furniture?" Clay asked.

"I can just see Belle and Beast in IKEA arguing over whether they need another LACK table," Hannah giggled.

"And did Mr. and Mrs. Potts seriously name their kid Chip?" Brad asked.

"Yea, kinda falls apart when you think about it too much," Tony observed.

"Dessert?" the waitress asked as she came to clear their plates.

"Milkshake. Chocolate milkshake," Hannah said immediately. "What? I always have a milkshake on my birthday!" she said in response to the startled look Brad.

"One chocolate milkshake. Anything else?" the waitress inquired.

"I guess make that four," Clay responded looking at Tony and Brad who shrugged.

The milkshakes came with a small brownie and a candle with a diner-wide round of 'Happy birthday.'

"So when's your writing workshop again?" Tony asked Hannah.

"I'm not going," Hannah replied, looking down intently at her milkshake.

"You were so excited about it," Brad said, surprised.

"Clay and my parents…" Hannah started. "I mean, we all decided it probably wasn't the best for me to be all the way in Portland, so far away for two weeks. In case." Tony and Brad looked at each other, eyebrows raised. "Besides, I should take some classes at the community college this summer, build up my resume for college. My grades aren't great."

"You're still aiming for New York?" Brad asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Hannah said, now even more fascinated by her milkshake.

"Moving across country to such a crazy place...it may be a good idea for us to consider staying in the area, you know?" Clay said. "And you can't beat in state tuition."

"Well, in-state tuition is always good," Brad said. "It definitely was a factor for me in my decision for college." Hannah smiled at him and nodded. Bringing his hands down on the table, Brad declared, "Present time!" and produced a box badly wrapped in Christmas paper. Hannah suspected Tony was behind that. Hannah ripped the paper off with glee, revealing a jewelry box that played 'La Vie En Rose' when opened. Hannah hugged them both. A small package accompanied by a card from Cat was a pair of dangly earrings Hannah had considered buying when they'd gone to a flea market together during Cat's visit a few weeks ago. Though her best friend hadn't been able to visit her often, their relationship had strengthened after the events of March. Cat called her every other day for long, rambling conversations.

"Here's mine," Clay said, producing a flat package, neatly wrapped with crisp corners. She opened it carefully unlike the others and put the paper aside. It was a sketch book. She opened it to find the constellations, the four solstice and equinox skies drawn perfectly, the coordinates of their spot noted in the corner. The skies were filled with rabbits. A rabbit Herakles wearing the Nemean lion on his back, a rabbit Cassiopea upside-down in her chair, rabbit Orion with a sword and shield and rabbit gemini twins, holding hands. A tiny rabbit was sitting on Pegasus' back and another danced at the heels of Canus Major.

"Wow," Hannah whispered. "Clay…" This must have taken him hours.

"Man, can you draw anything besides rabbits?" Tony asked. Hannah smacked him on the shoulder and held the book to her chest. She leaned over and gave Clay a lingering kiss. It was a perfect birthday.

* * *

Title from One Art by Elizabeth Bishop. Haven't actually seen the new Beauty and the Beast but some opinions lifted from a conversation with my best friend.

For continuity, the show takes place in fall 2017 so since we are in late May of the following year (Hannah is a gemini in my world so that she is 17 in fall 2017), it is May 2018 currently. They will be graduating in June 2019. Future vision going on here.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Lying on the floor, I come undone**

Hannah sat on the bathroom floor, her backed up to the wall, facing down the arsenal of her demons. She was out of weapons, her reserves were gone and her shield was about to give way. "Slut," "whore," "you're destroying their lives," "do you know what would be nice right now? Dying." It was a litany as if chanting a prayer, as if it was a record stuck on repeat.

"You can do it," she said slowly aloud, trying to convince herself. She dialed the emergency number on her phone.

"Hannah? What's going on?"

"I can't anymore. I can't," she said softly, tears streaming down her face involuntarily. "It's too much. I can't."

"Hannah, are you thinking about hurting yourself?"

"I can't do this anymore."

"Hannah, where are you?" Dr. Lee asked calmly.

"Bathroom."

"Are you hearing the voices?"

"Yes," Hannah whispered.

"Ok. I'm going to call Clay and your parents and if I can't get a hold of them, I'm going to call 911 for you," Dr. Lee said. "Hannah, you are so brave. You are so brave for calling me. Right now I need you to keep being brave. Can you do that?"

"I'll try," Hannah whimpered. "It's so hard. It's so hard."

"I know, but you did the right thing. You are so strong. I need you to keep being strong. We'll come up with a plan together to get through this. Right now we need to make sure you are safe and then we'll focus on getting you better. You did a very brave thing. I need you to focus on being brave."

"Ok." Hannah hung up the collapsed onto the ground, covering her ears though it did no good; the voices were inside her head.

"Slut," "whore," "they would be better off," "they don't want you." "slut," "whore," "you're a burden," "you're ruining their lives." "Slut," "whore," "you're alone," "die already."

"Hold on, hold on," she chanted to herself, a person 'Hail Mary.' "Hold on. Hold on."

;

Clay let himself in and saw her curled up on the floor, surrounded by a hundred deadly objects. He stooped to kiss her temple before running to quickly grab her sweatshirt and journal from her room. He saw the sketchbook he'd given her with the constellations and the drawings he'd given her the first time she'd been...away..spread out on the bed. They were stained with tears, as if she had been trying to look to them for hope. He grabbed those too before heading back to the bathroom. She barely responded to him as he brought her outside into the cool September air and arranged her in the front seat of the car, limp as a rag doll.

"Hold on," he said to her. He knew he should keep talking so she would hear his voice and know he was with her, but he didn't know which words to say. He turned on the radio and sang along all the way to the emergency room.

;

The emergency department staff didn't know what to make of the quiet boy bringing in the nearly catatonic girl. He whispered soothing words to her as he supported her weight. His calm, collected actions were completely incongruous with the look of panic on his face. He waved away attempts from the staff to help support her. "She doesn't like people, especially strangers, touching her." He nodded thanks when they pointed him to a bed. He lifted her onto it and sat beside her, holding her hand like it was a life raft.

"Her name is Hannah Baker, 18, and her boyfriend is bringing her in for suicidal ideation. She's been here before for an attempt back in March," the nurse told Dr. Patel who nodded and headed over to the young couple.

"Hello, I'm Dr Patel, one of the doctors in the emergency room. You're Hannah?" Dr Patel asked the catatonic girl who didn't respond. She hadn't moved at all from where she had been placed on the bed twenty minutes ago. "I didn't catch your name," Dr. Patel said, turning to address the boy.

"Clay," the boy replied. "I'm her boyfriend." Panic was replaced by a mixture of a quiet worry and relief that he had made it. Dr Patel shook the boy's hand.

"Hannah, I want you to rest. I'm going to address my questions to Clay because he might have an easier time answering but I'm going to check in with you. If you want to say anything or need anything at all, let me know. We're going to make sure you know exactly what is going on," Dr Patel told Hannah before turning to Clay.

"What happened?" Dr. Patel asked Clay.

"She was ok. She did so well over the summer. She did summer classes; we went camping in the redwoods. I thought she was better. I don't know what happened. We... We just started school again. We went to a party two days ago. She was happy. She was going to spend yesterday doing homework but I don't know. She's hidden it before," Clay said, staring off into the distance as if talking to himself. "I don't know what happened. She was ok. She was better. I thought she was cured."

"What happened tonight?" Dr. Patel asked, recalling Clay to the present moment.

"She called her therapist who called me to pick her up. I texted her therapist already and I called her parents but they didn't pick up."

"Where did you find her?"

"Bathroom floor."

"Do you know if she took anything or hurt herself."

"I don't think so," Clay said shaking her head. "It didn't look like she'd opened any of the bottles and everything on her arms is old. I think she called before she did anything."

"Hannah has a history of depression?"

"Yea, she's had a couple of episodes, I'm not really sure how many, but she's been ok since the hospital. She was getting better. She was normal. I don't know what happened."

"When was she in the hospital?"

"Early march, for a little more than a week and then outpatient for 3 weeks. She sees a therapist every week and a psychiatrist every other week."

"Was that her first hospitalization?"

'Yea."

"For a suicide attempt?" Dr. Patel asked. Clay nodded. "Does she take any medication that you know about?"

"Yea, she takes lexapro but I don't know the dose. She's been on seroquel but not since May? I'm sorry, I don't remember specifics," Clay said, burying his face in his free hand.

"Hey, don't worry, you're doing great. You did the right thing bringing her in."

"How did I not see this? How was I so fucking blind?" Clay asked, tears coming to his eyes. "I thought she was better. I cannot believe I didn't fucking see this!"

"It's not your fault," Dr. Patel assured him. "You did the right thing."

"CLAY!" Olivia yelled, as she entered the psych area of the emergency room. Dr. Patel drew back the curtain. "Oh thank god, Clay." She ran up to Clay to hug him, tears running down her face in fear and relief.

"You're her mother?" Dr. Patel asked.

"Yes, I'm her mother, Olivia Baker. What happened? What is happening to my little girl?" Olivia asked, nearly hysterical.

"It sounds like she reached out for help and this young man brought her here. I need to get some more history from you and confirm what we have in the computer. I'm going to consult psychiatry and we can talk about the plan from there," Dr. Patel told her and drew her away to talk.

"Clay," Hannah said as if she was searching for him, tears continuing their path down her face. "Don't leave me."

"I'm here. It's going to be ok," Clay whispered to her, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Title is from Undone- The Sweater Song by Weezer

Sorry this is a freaking commercial for lexapro. Many of my friends with depression are on it or have been on it. Manic-depressives cannot take SSRIs (they can throw us into mania) so I don't have a lot of first hand fluency with depression meds.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20. Handing out sticks**

Hannah spent four days in the unit and got early parole for good behavior or more likely a fast response to the new medications they put her on. This time she'd graduated to the adult ward. There was nothing to do all day but to watch tv, not even stupid group sessions. Sports games and comedies in syndication only. Someone had decided the news was too scary for them. Her mood lifted faster this time. The terms of her release were once a week meetings with Dr. P and three sessions weekly with Dr. Lee. No intensive outpatient this time, for which she was glad.

"I'm pathetic. A cry for attention or help or whatever. Didn't even have it in me to do it," Hannah said, finally broaching the topic of her recent hospitalization at her third session. She'd danced around it the first two, resisting any attempt of Dr. Lee to steer her that way but today the floodgate opened and her thoughts spilled from her mouth.

"Why do you think that?" Dr. Lee asked, hands forming her characteristic 'O' shape in her lap.

"That's what people say about people who cry 'suicidal ideation.' I'm weak and not serious, all I want is attention. I just wish this would go away. I feel like I'm so pathetic, you know? Like maybe if I was just stronger, this would all go away and I could be normal. Or maybe I'd be able to actually follow through and kill myself."

"You want to know what I think?"

"I've been waiting months to hear what you think. Enlighten me," Hannah said sarcastically.

"I think you're actually incredibly strong," Dr. Lee said, ignoring Hannah's tone. 'Being strong is not the absence of depression or episodes. Being strong is getting help when you need it, advocating for yourself. You did everything right. When it looked like something was wrong, you continued to do the right thing and get help. As we continue working, the goal is for you to recognize it earlier, before you get to that point. But that comes with time. You're already on the path. You already demonstrated that you're advocating for yourself."

They sat in a heavy silence. Hannah simultaneously loved and hated Dr. Lee when she did this. Dr. Lee did this thing where she just waited, waited for Hannah to say something and to break the silence. Predictably, she did."Then why can't I just get over this? I sometimes feel like I'm making it all up. You know? God, it's just in my head. This isn't even real."

"What is that Dumbledore quote? 'Of course, it's all in your head, but why does that mean it's not real?'" Dr. Lee quoted. Dr. Lee paused. "Do teenagers still read Harry Potter?"

"Yea," Hannah said. "Teenagers still read Harry Potter."

"I'm reading it to my daughter right now, lots of decent advice if you look close enough. I think I read somewhere that dementors are a metaphor for J.K. Rowling's depression?" Hannah shrugged in response. "Anyway, I probably got that wrong, but of course it's real. You have a medical illness that is trying to harm you, even trying to kill you and it is the exact same as if you had diabetes or multiple sclerosis or cancer." They sat in silence but this time Dr. Lee broke it. "So what made you decide to call me?"

"I knew it would hurt Clay, my parents, Cat, Tony, Brad. My death would hurt them. I wasn't worth the pain my death would cause," Hannah said. She shrugged before saying, "And I promised you." It sounded so stupid, but in that moment as she had sat on that cold bathroom floor, that promise had been so important. "I promised I would call you if I ever thought about hurting myself, so I felt like I had to. I couldn't let you down." Dr. Lee nodded.

"I'm glad you kept that promise and I think one day you will be too. And you made the choice to keep that promise. Life is a choice and death is a choice. It's a choice you make every day and that day and yesterday and today you chose life. Sometimes it's an easy choice, you don't even think about it. Sometimes it's a really hard choice. That night you stared your demons right in the eye and 'No thank you, I'm going to live. I'm going to live even though it is hard and impossible and I don't see the point. I'm going to live even though every direction is bull shit.' You said, 'I'm going to live on the off chance that it is going to get better.' And that is incredible. That is amazing. Clay may have given you a ride and he stood by you when you needed him, but you saved yourself. I hope you can see that someday."

A new idea took shape in Hannah's mind, one of the truest things she had thought in a while, "Things really fucking suck right now and I'm not happy, but I think I'm glad I'm alive."

* * *

Title from Boggle the owl, which makes me cry even when I'm ok. "...here you are; you've come over to me, banged on my door, and said, "Hey! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don't care if it's a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!...All I'm doing is handing out sticks. You're the one staying alive." I did not do it justice. Go read it. post/41509206591/ive-been-getting-a-lot-of-these-lately-and-i

Yes, I've been sitting on the Dumbledore quote for a while. Yes, Dr. Lee quotes it wrong.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows.

"I wasn't worth the pain my death would cause," is from After All by Dar Williams. Every direction looks like bullshit is from hyperbole and a half.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter:** **We are golden**

"Hannah, get your party clothes on, we're taking you out," Tony commanded when Hannah picked up her phone.

"But…" Hannah started but couldn't really think of a reason why not.

"I have a DJ gig at Johnny's and Brad is tired of being abandoned. You're coming, you'd be doing me a favor."

"Fine."

"Great, we'll be there in 5," Tony informed her.

"TONY! I can't get ready in 5 minutes!" Hannah protested. Tony sighed.

"Straight girls take so damn long to get ready."

"I've seen you take 30 minutes on your hair," Hannah countered.

"Fair enough," Tony conceded. "We'll see you in 10."

"What!" Hannah exclaimed.

"You're wasting time," Tony scolded before hanging up. Hannah giggled excitedly, rummaging through her clothes while mentally deciding what makeup she could skip. A quick note to her parents and she was ready just as, sure enough, Tony pulled up in his mustang ten minutes later with Brad in the back seat. Hannah climbed in the front and Tony started driving, windows down.

"Here you go," Brad said handing her an envelope. She pulled out an ID which pictured a girl who looked almost like her with curly brown hair and the name 'Anna Bailey.'

"A fake ID?" Hannah asked incredulously.

"They probably won't card because they know me, but in case," Tony assured her.

"How did you get this?" Hannah demanded. Tony just shrugged.

"Brother," he said by way of explanation, a common statement for Tony whenever something vaguely shady was happening. Hannah looked at him skeptically and then back at Brad.

"Don't look at me, I try to think about it," Brad said, hands up in surrender. Hannah looked at the ID and something occurred to her.

"You've been planning this!" she accused, pointing her finger first at Tony and then Brad in the back.

"Guilty as charged, ma'am. A planned kidnapping," Brad said with a flourish. "So shut up and have fun."

They pulled up at Johnny's, the only gay bar in the area. As Tony predicted, the doorman let Tony and Brad in with only a pat on the back and then waved Hannah in with barely a glance. She supposed he wouldn't bother calling them for obviously being underage unless they caused a fuss. Inside Hannah was dazzled by the lights and the music even though it was only 9. They entered together, all carrying Tony's equipment.

"I gotta go set up," Tony informed them. "Go grab a drink at the bar for me."

"We'd better go," Brad said, "He gets cranky with people around him when he's preparing for the 'music.' Pretentious fuck."

"I heard that!" Tony mock protested.

"You were supposed to," Brad shot back before leaning in to kiss Tony quickly. He pulled Hannah away toward the bar. There were only few patrons; it was still early and a Thursday night on top of that. "We'll take an old fashioned and two rum and cokes," Brad said to the bartender who nodded and went to make them their drinks.

"So do you guys come here a lot?" Hannah asked.

"Every once in awhile when Tony gets a gig. Bars aren't really my scene," Brad explained. The bartender came back with their drinks and Brad passed him cash over Hannah's protests that she could pay for her own drink. They dropped one of the rum and cokes in front of Tony who nodded his thanks, attention focused on his equipment and his playlist.

Hannah and Brad claimed a spot at one of the tiny tables in the back of the room, people watching and talking about Brad's courses including a philosophy class he was taking as a distribution requirement which was kicking his butt.

"I don't think I will ever understand Nietzsche," Brad commented. "'I think this is definitely putting the nail in the coffin of any inclination I ever had to do the humanities."

"Give you orgo or physics and you're fine but you're defeated by Nietzsche," Hannah laughed. "'God is dead,' I thought that is all there is to it."

"Don't even get me started," Brad warned. They saw Tony smile from across the room and the music changed. "Enough of this, let's dance!" Brad led her onto the floor.

;

Tony was at the end of a cigarette, a habit Brad hated and had almost broken them up a few times though Tony was honestly trying to quit, when he got a call from Clay.

"Yo, what up man?" Tony asked.

"Hey Tony, I was wondering if Hannah was with you. I tried calling her but she didn't answer," Clay said.

"Yea, her phone died. Were you supposed to hang out tonight? She didn't mention anything," Tony replied.

"We weren't, I have a paper due Monday. She just didn't tell me she was going out so I got worried."

"It's 11:18, man. She's dancing. She's fine," Tony replied.

"I just hadn't heard from her," Clay said, the relief evident in his voice.

"She's fine." Tony repeated himself.

"She's just…" Clay trailed off.

"She's just what?" Tony asked.

"She's just fragile. You know that. It's only been a month since she was in the hospital. I need to make sure she's ok and that nothing happened to her. How could you go out without telling me? Where are you guys? I'm going to head there. She shouldn't be out so late anyway. God Tony, what were you thinking? How could you be so irresponsible!" Silence. "Tony? Where are you guys?" A beat as Tony breathed out and lit a new cigarette while Clay said 'Hello? You still there?' into the phone.

"I'm going to let you think about what you just asked me and give you the opportunity to tell her tomorrow that your call to her was to ask if she knew where your keys or book or whatever was." Another beat. "I promise not to tell you called." It was a promise Tony would end up breaking in a few years on a chilly February night, sitting on a fire escape drinking cheap whiskey. "I'm hanging up now and I don't want to hear from you again tonight."

"Tony, what is something happens, and I'm not there to save her? I love her, Tony. I can't like without her…"

"I know, and that's why I'm giving you this opportunity," Tony hung up and took a drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out, only half done.

;

"Where you been?" Hannah asked leaning over his DJ station "Your replacement sucked. No taste at all, horrible transitions. We need you Tony!"

"Yea, yea, I'm back. Go back out there and dance with my boy. I'll bring you drinks on my next break, what you want?"

"Something fruity and cloyingly sweet. And make sure you leave your replacement with a playlist next time so we don't all have to suffer!" Hannah demanded and disappeared back into the crowd to go dance with Brad.

Tony dutifully queued up a playlist for his next break in spare moments and at his break joined Brad and Hannah where they were dancing with such moves as the lawn mower and the sprinkler. He handed them their drinks and sipped on his while the music played.

"Come on Brad, I gave you so much time alone with Hannah and you couldn't even teach her how to dance at all?" Tony teased.

"Well darling, if you're going to comment, why don't you teach her?"

Tony handed Brad his and Hannah's drinks and grabbed Hannah's hand, spinning her around. She threw her head back and laughed.

;

Hannah cranked down the windows and turned the volume up. "You in that dress! My thoughts I confess, verge on dirty!" Hannah sang into her fist while Brad pretended to play the violin in the back. "Ah come on Eileen!" Brad chimed in midway through the chorus. Tony smiled at the two them, screaming at the top of their lungs. Enthusiastic they were, on key they were not.

"Come on Tony!" Hannah yelled smacking him on the arm. Tony shook his head and chuckled. He was a good singer, had been a choir boy and soloist at church until (ironically) he'd been caught with Julio by the schoolyard when he was 13.

Windows down, Tony took them the long way home down winding roads as Brad and Hannah continued to sing off key along to his eclectic mix. Hannah smacked him to join in on choruses or whenever the song called for actual vocal talent. Hannah and Brad marched around the outside screaming "But I WOULD WALK 500 MILES!" when they stopped for gas, scaring the attendant in the building. Tony to swore he didn't know them. They insisted on playing it again in the car and "Da da da ta" 'ed back and forth. After that they shook it like a polaroid picture and threw their hands up in the air sometimes. Tony drove them around the streets, just fast enough for Hannah's hair to fly when she stuck her head out the window to scream "We are GOLDEN!"

* * *

Title is from We Are Golden by Mika. Idea for this chapter came while I was running and listening to Mika. I thought it would be awesome to scream "We are golden" out of a car window though unfortunately I'm too old to do that now. Song also has one of the best lyrics ever written, "I live for glitter, not you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22. Practice losing farther, losing faster**

"He looks like an accountant," Hannah observed.

"Huh? Who?" Clay replied.

"The guy who looks like an accountant," Hannah said, nodding at the man on stage. "The guy on guitar."

"Hmmm," Clay responded with over exaggerated gravity, as if contemplating deeply what Hannah said. "What if he's played backup with all the greats? Hendrix? Clapton? Harrison? What if he's a true artist?" Clay nodded at the bassist who was dressed into the nines in rock and roll. "What if the bassist is the one who is actually an insurance adjuster?" Hannah giggled and Clay had one of those crystal moments that would stick forever in his memory. He always knew she was pretty, but sometimes it struck him out of nowhere how strikingly beautiful she was. She took his breath away.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, Henry and Grace will be cutting the cake!" the singer announced with what Hannah would classify as over the top enthusiasm.

"I should go with the other bridesmaids," Hannah said, kissing Clay on the cheek before heading off to stand with her cousins and the bride's friends who made up the absurdly large bridal party. Clay couldn't help thinking about the future with Hannah. Before her, he'd never thought about the 'future' beyond college.

"You guys still planning on going camping after this?" Olivia Baker asked sometime later with two plates of cake, one for herself and one for Clay. Hannah was off with the other bridesmaids dealing with a meltdown over the fact that the cake was a different flavor than asked for.

"Yes, it looks like the rain is going to hold off and we'll just get mist," he replied.

"You have everything you need? Tarps and everything?"

"Yup, I think we raided REI. If there are any supplies left for anyone else, I would be surprised. Don't worry, we've been camping before," Clay assured her.

"Never for a week though. I just worry, with everything..." Olivia explained, trailing off. "But I know she'll be safe with you. I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need."

"Of course," Clay replied. "And we'll back in a week to finish packing and to move." Olivia nodded as Hannah made her way over to them. "This is really good cake," Clay told her. Hannah rolled her eyes.

"I will never understand the wedding industrial complex and the need for a 'perfect' wedding," Hannah said, exasperated. "I thought we'd never get her out of the bathroom."

"Well, you look you need cake," Clay said offering her the fork.

"After all that drama, it had better damn good cake." Hannah took a bite of cake, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yea, this is fucking good cake. Frankly better than the original."

;

They made their way to the national park, listening to Tony's road trip mix. Hannah insisted on stopping out and doing the 'Here it goes again' dance in a parking lot. They camped underneath their favorite redwood. It was 'their spot' and momentous on multiple levels.

The first time they'd come here last summer, Clay had been surprised by Hannah's comfort with camping. He wouldn't have pegged as someone able to go multiple days using only the campsite showers and peeing in the woods but she had surprised him and was a bit of a camping expert. She led him on tireless hikes and told him all about the forest.

They drove to Mendocino park. They camped by Lake Pillsbury and swam (likely illegally) under the stars. He watched her in the water, the stars reflecting in the dark surface, almost like diamonds clothing her as the water rippled on the surface around her. That moment too crystallized in his mind. Nothing so beautiful as her had ever existed.

;

Clay moved into his dorm at Berkeley first. Berkeley had been a nasty argument with his parents. Their arguments had gotten more bitter as time passed, each more painful than the last.

"Berkeley is a good school! One of the best in the country!" he had screamed at his mother when she found the acceptance letter to Cal Tech in the recycling and caught him mailing his acceptance to Berkeley.

"Yes, I agree it is. I went to law school there so I know exactly how good it is," Lainie Jensen had said back, her attempt to restrain the volume of her voice obvious.

"Then I cannot understand why you're so against me going there!"

"I'm against you going there because you've NEVER wanted to go there. You've wanted to go to Cal Tech since you were a kid and visited your cousin there. You wanted a smaller school!"

"Well I changed my mind. Don't I have the right to change my mind?" he'd asked.

"But why? Tell me that Clay! Why are you suddenly giving up on something you've always wanted?" Lainie Jensen had screamed, having reached her breaking point. Clay had stormed out, and hadn't spoken to his mother for a month, communicating when necessary through notes on the granite counter top. Even now, over half a year later, their relationship was tense and consisted of short staccato sentences. Clay didn't care. For Hannah, he'd leave it all. If she needed him, if she said the word, he'd up and run to her.

His parents left soon after dropping him off, almost willfully ignorant that he was going to be picked up by the Bakers that night to move Hannah the next day. Lainie Jensen avoided Olivia and Andrew Baker at all costs, as if they were ghosts haunting her world, hoping they would leave her life and Clay's life if she ignored them.

Hannah's dorm move the next day was marked by traffic and rain.

Quietly, Hannah had applied to Barnard College, sending with her application a packet of poems and short stories. She'd cried when she'd opened her acceptance which was accompanied by an invitation to apply to scholarships for writers. She'd showed it to her parents whose smiles went tight. San Francisco State was closer, they pointed out. If she needed anything, she could come home easily. "I don't know how I feel about you so far away," Olivia Baker had said. Her father pointed out that San Francisco State was in state. Soon after she'd received notification that she'd received a merit scholarship and would have nearly a free ride. Junior year she'd pulled up her grades significantly, she'd managed an astounding SAT score somehow and she had an excellent essay. San Francisco State wanted to fill their class with talented students like her, they said in their letter. Hannah could go to college for almost free. But yet, New York City called to her.

"What should I do?" Hannah had asked Clay when they were both deciding on their futures, him between Berkeley and Cal Tech though he had already secretly decided months ago, and her between Barnard and San Francisco State.

"San Francisco, no question," Clay had said. "You'll be in the city," he'd assured her. "It's not like you'll be stuck forever in the suburbs. You like San Francisco." Cat was going to UCSF, so she'd be close too. So, with reluctance, Hannah replied 'yes' to San Francisco State and spent the next few months coming to terms with decision. She was almost ok with it, if she was honest with herself, but she put on a happy face for Clay. He didn't notice that she smiled just a little too brightly when they talked about their upcoming year, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.

;

Hannah had had a bad episode after going to her first party by herself midway through her first semester. She'd barely been able to do anything beyond attend classes. Showers took an hour. She couldn't bare getting herself to the dining hall; she didn't respond to the texts from her new friends. She called Dr. Lee and Dr. P to set up emergency sessions. Clay slept over nearly every night and even her bratty roommate didn't object. He drove her to her appointments and brought her food. He made sure she got notes from her doctors so she could extensions on papers. "At least I don't want to kill myself," she'd joked feebly.

Now if Clay couldn't make it to campus to go with her to a party, she stayed in. "It's safer not to risk it," he'd reasoned, and she agreed.

Hannah took introduction to psychology the first semester of sophomore year and diagnosed herself with every disorder. She met a fellow student who joked about his OCD as if it were normal. He found humor in what was happening to him and he encouraged her to join the mental health advocacy group on campus. Suddenly she met other people like her and for the first time she felt like she wasn't alone.

"They're going to a march in Sacramento next Saturday!" Hannah told Clay excitedly when he picked her up to spend the weekend at Berkeley. "It's going to be this whole big thing. They're marching for comprehensive coverage of mental health services! Over 50 thousand people are expected to go and there'll be speeches by famous people with mental illness! Lady Gaga and Demi Lovato and Cara Delevingne will be there!" She paused. "I think I'm going to go."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Clay asked skeptically. "I mean, there'll be media, what if there's a picture of you? What if it gets out about you? You may have trouble getting a job or health insurance or whatever."

"Oh," Hannah said quietly, her excitement draining from her rapidly.

"And you'll be out all day crushed in a crowd of strangers. Maybe it's better if you visit me that weekend? We could go see the new Lux movie that's getting good reviews?"

"I guess you're right," Hannah conceded.

"We'll have fun," he said assuring her before turning back to the previous topic. "Maybe it's not a great idea for you to part of a group like that on campus, in case this comes back around on you in the future."

"You're right," Hannah repeated and changed the subject to her math class and extracted a promise from Clay to help her when they got back to his dorm.

* * *

Citations: Title is once again from One Art by Elizabeth Bishop. Opening conversation about the band is lifted nearly verbatim from one I had with my partner. References to imagery from Match Box 20 and George Ezra.

Not from CA, only been there once, so I had to do research on colleges in Northern California. Even though Hannah is shown as being an average student at best (and frankly not grade oriented at all), I figured she's been bringing up her grades since dating Clay (who is shown being very grade oriented) and could possibly qualify for a generous scholarship from a state school.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23. And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time**

"Hannah, be serious. Greece? This summer? I've already committed to research on campus with Professor Green."

"Just because you can't go to Greece doesn't mean I can't go," Hannah protested.

"Look, we can go camping in the redwoods when I get a week off in August."

"I don't want to go to the fucking redwoods!"

"You love the redwoods!" Clay exclaimed, surprised by the vehemence of her objection.

"I do love the redwoods but I've been to the redwoods. We always go to the redwoods. I've never been to Greece. This is a huge opportunity!"

"Well, we'll go to Greece after college or something, ok? Or next summer, I'll clear my schedule."

"I can't even with you right now!" Hannah shouted, exiting Clay's dorm room, he caught the door before it slammed. She stormed out, crossing her arms across her chest against the cold February air.

"What are you doing?" he said, chasing after her.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving!"

"How? You don't have a car! I picked you up! All your stuff is here!"

"They have these wonderful things called trains, Clay. They transport people without cars."

"You're going to the train," Clay said incredulously. "It's an hour and half ride back to San Francisco. You don't even have a coat! You're wearing a short sleeve shirt!"

"I don't care. I can't be around you right now."

"Stop being stupid and come back inside."

"I need to leave right now," Hannah told him and began walking away.

"Hannah, stop being unreasonable. Come back inside. It's cold."

"Oh I'm being unreasonable? What about you, Clay? What is this really about?"

"You know what this is about!"

"No, I want you to say it! I want you to hear yourself say outloud why I can't go on a once in a lifetime opportunity? Why can't go to help with a major archeological project with Professor Carter when I was specifically asked to go out of a class of 50? Why is this your decision and not mine? I am 20 years old!"

"You know why! You know why you can't go!" Clay protested.

"Say it, Clay. Say it," Hannah repeated, voice becoming almost monotone.

"What is something happens?" Clay asked.

"I've been mostly fine for over two years!"

"Yea. Mostly fine. What about those close calls? What about those times you've come close? What about those times I had to sit with you? What about those times I had to leave campus to come get you?"

"Fuck you Clay!"

"The last time was beginning of last semester! You act like it was so long ago! How are you going to get emergency appoints with Dr. Lee when you're in Greece for seven weeks? Who is going to be there if something happens? How am I supposed to fly all the way to Greece to come get you?" He let out an exasperated breath and shook his head. Then, quietly, almost so quiet she could barely hear him, "How am I supposed to protect you if you are halfway across the world?"

"It's not your job to protect me!" Hannah exploded. "It's my life and my risk to take! You and my parents. You are smothering me! I can barely breathe." And that was it, wasn't it? He'd wrapped her in silk; he'd handled her with kid gloves. He'd shielded her against the world. And she let him. She hid behind that shield, let him stand between her and the world, between her and herself, even as she chafed against it. She beat against the bars of the gilded cage she helped him build. She'd been the architect of her own confinement, shown him where to lay every brick, but it was so much easier to lay the blame on him.

"You can barely breathe? I can barely breathe! I can barely take a breath without worrying about you and if you'll be alive tomorrow. You have a history! You've tried to kill yourself! I live every single day with the threat that you'll try again! You don't understand what it's like when the person you love most in the world is holding herself hostage!" Clay looked at her, his gaze falling onto her bare arms. They were nearly imperceptible, no new ones for years and now she sometimes wore short sleeves, for the first time in years, but Clay still knew where every one of her scars was. Each was an accusation, a reminder of each time he'd failed her.

"My life has been stolen from me, by this stupid illness and by you too. You've made me afraid of my own shadow! You've made me afraid to do anything at all on my own! You've made me afraid to live! What's happened, Clay? How did this happen? I always wanted to go to New York! I never wanted to stay here! You stole New York from me!" Hannah was screaming now and people were staring. She breathed out hard and tried to collect herself before continuing. "I am living a life I didn't want to live; I'm afraid to live. I'm dying in this half life. You're telling me you live every day, terrified that I'll kill myself. You know what? I live with that too. I have the right to decide what happens to me. I refuse to die slowly because you think I'm not strong enough to live."

"Hannah, think about…" Clay started to say.

"No," Hannah said, cutting him off. "No Clay. No. I get to choose. For once, I get to choose and I'm going to choose to live, to really live. I get to choose what is a risk worth taking and I would rather risk dying than lose out on the possibility of living because right now I'm not living."

"Fine, go to Greece! Go to fucking Greece! Go 'live' or whatever bullshit crap it is you think 'living' is," Clay shouted. Tears were streaming down his face. "But it's going to kill me if you die. I don't know what I would do if you died."

"Well fuck you Clay! This is exactly what I was saying!" Hannah screamed. "You and the point, missing each other yet again, as per usual."

"Fine, what is the point Hannah? Explain it to me if I've missed it so badly!" They stared at each other, and somehow really saw each other for the first time in a long time.

"I've lost myself and you've lost yourself," Hannah admitted, shrugging helplessly. "I haven't been Hannah for years. I miss her. I miss being me. And you? Who are you Clay? You've rearranged your entire life around me. Your schedule, your day, your life revolves around me. Around protecting me. Who the fuck are you anymore, Clay?" She sighed and sat on the cold stones steps of the dorm building, collapsing from the weight of her words, the fight was draining out of her. A realization dawned upon her, a decision that would change her life, one that would hurt both of them, but one she had to make. As she sat there, it became more and more clear so she said the words that one of them had to say. Words she should have said a long time ago. "I can't do this anymore. We can't do this anymore. We're going to destroy each other."

"Hannah…"

"I'm setting you free," Hannah said, burying her face in her hands.

"Hannah, what are you saying?"

"I'm setting you free, Clay," Hannah repeated, looking up to meet his gaze. "You don't have to protect me anymore. Go find out who you are when you're not trying to save me." She rose from her place on the stair and walked off into the darkness. He was left there, calling her name.

* * *

Title from Goodbye to You by Michelle Branch. Much Michelle Branch was listened to while editing this.

Bits inspired by the train station scene in The Hours.

Home stretch! Will post last handful of chapters as a group likely in the next few days depending on how I feel/last minute edits.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24.** **This is the first day of my life, swear I was born right in the doorway**

"Jensen!" blasted from Clay's phone after he made the mistake of picking it up. "Better get going or you'll be more than fashionably late!"

"Mike, I told you I was a maybe at best and it looks like I have to bail. I promised I'd get this draft to Hackett by Monday and I have papers to grade by Wednesday and I have to prep for quals and…" Clay replied as he was cut off.

"I don't understand why you care so much about TAing the thankless children."

"I like teaching."

"Well, that is beside the point. When was the last time I saw you not on campus? Get your ass over here or I'm never speaking to you again," Mike interrupted.

"I believe that is a bit of an over exaggeration."

"True," Mike said good naturedly. "But regardless, come on man! What is one night of fun? You've been a good monk and spent every Saturday night cloistered in your apartment or the library for the past year and a half! Come to my housewarming. It's just a little gathering, not even that many people."

"Again, you exaggerate the extent of my seclusion. We went to happy hour last week. I believe I had to carry you home."

"Come on Jensen! Afraid you'll have fun? Live a little," and with that the call ended, allowing Mike to have the last word.

Clay sighed and shut his computer. It had been a long time since he'd gone out.

;

When Clay reached the party it was already in full swing. The one bedroom Columbia grad student housing apartment was packed wall to wall and he was fairly certain all sorts of fire codes were currently being broken. 'Small party my ass,' he thought. He looked around the crowd and there she was.

She looked the same and yet different, still strikingly beautiful. She glanced up at him from her conversation and suddenly the entire room froze except for the two of them. She smiled slightly and he felt himself drawn forward toward her like a moth to a flame, like that winter formal all those years ago. Over three years had passed...and yet. Hannah said a quick word to her friend and started toward him, amusement playing across her face.

"Good sir," she greeted him, dipping in a slight curtsey.

"My lady," he replied, returning the gesture with a full bow.

"I see the nickname 'helmet' still applies," she said.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, chuckling at the old nickname. She pointed at his flattened hair. "Christ," he sighed as he saw himself in the nearby mirror and started trying to run his hand through his hair.

"No, it's cute," she laughed and brought up her hand to hide her mirth. When she caught her breath, she asked, "I'm guessing you still get around via bike?"

"I just live two stops up the 1 and it's down…"

"JENSEN! You made it!" Mike roared as he clapped Clay on the back. Clay had no idea how a man so large moved so silently. "And I see you've met the ebullient Hannah Baker, Sara's roommate for the past two years or I guess now former roommate. Hannah is the girl I spent all of last year trying to set you up with. Hannah, this is the one and only reclusive Jensen, a mythical creature who rarely leaves his lair to interact with the common folk."

"I see. I'm honored to be graced by your presence then. Pleasure to meet you, Jensen," Hannah said, holding out her hand, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"MIKE," a woman's voice bellowed across the room.

"Ah, the dulcet tones of my one true love. I believe I should head over before they turn into threats to end my existence," he laughed and moved away through the crowd.

"Recluse huh?" Hannah commented.

"He exaggerates."

"Fair point," Hannah conceded. "How do you know Mike?"

"He kidnapped me during grad school orientation in order to go drinking. Ironically we skipped a lecture on the importance of attendance."

"I bet you loved that."

"The beer was good but I haven't been able to shake him off ever since."

"I feel that is the story of how most people know Mike. Poor Sara's just given up trying to get rid of him," she joked before changing the subject. "Grad school?"

"Poli sci."

"So you have given up on the world and retreated to a life of academia?"

"Haven't quite decided yet. I do like teaching." A burst of laughter erupted and Hannah was knocked forward into him, narrowly escaping getting a stray beer spill on her. Clay caught her and cocked his head to the side, a classic Clay tick. "Want to go somewhere quieter?" he asked. She raised her eyebrow. "Fire escape?" She shrugged and took his hand, leading him through the crowd.

He went out first, helping her through after. He studied her as she arranged herself so her feet dangled over the edge of the first escape.

"So how…" Clay started to ask.

"Let's only talk about deep things like how flies stay aloft, the ground speed velocity of an unladen swallow or why Pi is irrational," she interrupted.

"I mean, it's irrational to think about irrational numbers. Why would THE Hannah Baker wish to be irrational?" Clay teased as Hannah rolled her eyes. "So we discussed how I am a grad student, what do you do in New York City?"

"Well, for love and money, you can call me madam librarian, Marian," she paused when she saw his confused look. "Music Man? No? Well, I am a research librarian up in the Bronx."

"How did you get into that?"

"I was inspired by the college fair back in high school actually. That whole situation didn't go well but library science seemed like a good idea so I finished up college early and got my masters." She shrugged before continuing. "For love alone, I write, mostly short stories. Though I guess now for a little bit of money. I got a book deal three months ago, just a small press but still. You actually caught me on my last night in New York. I'm moving to Scotland for a year tomorrow. I got scholarship to a writing residency program." A bang on the window interrupted them and Mike's head appeared through the opening.

"Hannah, Sara's looking for you. Something about about your world famous cookies being done?" Mike said.

"Shit," Hannah murmured standing quickly and scurrying out of the window. Clay followed her through but Hannah had already disappeared, leaving Clay alone with Mike, the last person he wanted to be with at the moment.

"See! Man, I told you that you would hit it off!" Mike gloated, clapping Clay on the shoulder.

"She's my ex-girlfriend," Clay informed him ruefully. Mike stared at Clay taken aback, mouth agape.

"Fuck! That's THE Hannah? The one who broke your heart?"

"One and the same," Clay admitted.

"You know she's leaving tomorrow?"

"Yea, she was just telling me when you called her away."

"Fuck. I am so sorry dude. I wouldn't have guessed."

"Don't worry about it. It was years ago. I've dated since then, you know that."

"True, but you had just gotten over her when when I met you. Girl messed you up good."

"This is good for me. Closure and all. We haven't talked at all since the break up so we never got to move to becoming friends," Clay said.

"Yo Mike, speakers aren't working man!" someone called across the party.

"I'm being summoned but I call bullshit on all that. That is some Grade A Jensen bullshit," Mike chastised him. "Watch yourself," Mike warned and then moved away to deal with the speakers.

Clay looked around the party to see Hannah exiting the tiny kitchen carrying a tray of cookies. Apparently they were famous as party goers grabbed them as she walked. Summoning the little reserve of confidence he had and casting aside his frankly pathetic dignity, Clay went over to the food table.

"Hey, wanna dance?" he asked her as she set down the half empty tray.

"You're asking me to dance? Who are you and what have you done with Clay Jensen?" She glanced around. "Anyway, no one else is dancing and I don't even know how to dance to this."

"We'll be trend setters and I believe you dance like this," Clay replied and proceeded to jump in a circle like he had so long ago, migrating slightly too close to the table and narrowly avoiding crashing into it. Hannah laughed and pulled him away from danger before copying him. Her face lit up as she laughed and she was as radiantly beautiful as she was in his memories, ebullient indeed. He lead her out into a small break in the crowd as the song ended and a familiar song came on. "Must be fate." He pointed at the speakers. She laughed as the opening chords of 1000 times played.

"Who am I to argue with fate? I didn't know anyone except Tony ever listened to this song," she said.

"So I actually have taken a bit ballroom," he informed her, taking her hands in his and spinning her, making her break out into giggles. They were the only ones dancing but neither noticed.

"When did you take ballroom?" she asked.

"Believe it or not it counted for gym credit in college. The dean threatened me with not graduating." He spun her back into his arms. She placed her hands behind his neck, reminiscent of that winter dance. They didn't speak for the rest of the song but slowly swayed to the music. It would have been a dream if not for Clay's flat hair and sweaty palms. Even still, he half expect to wake up any moment. It was familiar and strange and awkward and wonderful all at once.

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" Clay asked when the song ended.

"Is that code for something?"

"It is code for 'let's go for a walk.'" Clay blushed. "You can't leave New York City without a proper "last night in New York."

"Well, that is a good point. Alright, Helmet," Hannah agreed. "Let me tell Sara I'm leaving."

Hannah met Clay by the door several minutes later. They headed down the stairs and out of the building.

"M'lady," Clay said as he offered her his arm.

"Thank you good sir," she replied and laid her arm over his. "What about your bike?"

"I'll grab it tomorrow."

"Where are we going? I live up in the Bronx and rarely hang out around here."

"Let's see," Clay said looking around. "We're on 112th and Broadway. Park? River?"

"What is the more true 'last night in New York?'"

"Let's walk down Broadway a bit and then cut back to the park? Catch the reservoir?" Clay suggested.

"Works for me," Hannah replied.

* * *

Title is First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes. For "love and money..." is how Margret H. Wilison introduces herself on Pop Culture Happy Hour


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25. 'Cause baby you look happier, you do. My friends told me one day I'll feel it too**

"So what brought you to New York, Clay?" Hannah asked as they strolled down Broadway.

"Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?" Clay asked back.

"Fake answer first."

"I really wanted to work with Dr. Hackett. He's a genius and I didn't want to do grad school unless I could work with him."

"And the real answer?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Do I?" Hannah turned to look at Clay thoughtfully before turning her gaze ahead. "I see," Hannah said.

"Actually it's pretty pathetic. I followed my girlfriend college. I wanted to go to Stanford but she got into NYU for med school so I came to Columbia."

"How'd that go?"

"Columbia or the girlfriend?"

"We'll start with the girlfriend."

"Not well unsurprisingly. Broke up with me at the end of summer about two days before I moved into my apartment. Rather horrible timing on her end. I guess that's why Mike identified me as a kidnapping victim." They walked for several blocks, the silence growing heavier with each passing moment. "Go ahead and ask it."

"Was the I the reason it didn't work?"

"Wow, you really said it. I didn't think you would say it," Clay said in disbelief and though at the same time he was not surprised all all.

"But was I?" Hannah pressed on.

"Mostly no. Turns out we didn't actually have all that much in common beyond ballroom dancing. She was the reason I kept doing it when I got my gym credits. But I guess yes, a bit. You were a factor," Clay said, the walk making him honest. "'Sometimes I feel like you believe I'm your ex girlfriend,' was thrown out in our last fight." Clay shook his head. "That one stung."

"I really messed you up good didn't I?"

"Just a bit. Threw my heart on the ground and stomped on it." He chuckled to himself and caught a glimpse of Hannah who looked horrified. "Nah, wasn't too bad." He grew serious again. "But someone's got to mess you up and if I'm going to be scarred for life, I honestly couldn't have picked anyone better than you."

"Back at you. Glad you were the one to 'scar me for life' as well," Hannah smiled at him and nudged him with her shoulder.

"It's all good though, no major lasting damage. Katie and I are much better as friends than we were as a couple. We dated for nearly two years and we were over it by the end of the next month. That probably says something unflattering about our relationship but it worked out," Clay said with a sigh. "She's tried to set me up with her classmates, I think she feels guilty because she started seeing someone seriously right away, but med students are too crazy. Never date a med student." He paused, considering. "Or actors. Horrible schedules both."

"Personal experience?"

"Oh yea. You don't even want to know about that particular train wreck. I have permanently crossed them off."

"I will keep that in mind. What about grad students?" she teased.

"Oh they are even worse."

"That so?"

"Horrible dressers all of them with rather disgusting tootsie roll habits. Stay far away from them."

"Can't be that bad. I've heard poli sci phd candidates are rather cute," Hannah said cheekily. Was she flirting? They turned down 81st street toward the park.

"I will report back if I find such a creature." She smiled at that and changed the subject.

"How do you like New York?"

"I thought I would hate it but it's been good for me. It forces you to get out of the grad school bubble. I haven't decided if I this is where I want to be after I graduate but I'm glad I'm here right now. I think it fits."

;

"I've always loved the planetarium here. Whenever I'm sad, I come here and I cannot help but marvel at the universe," Hannah said as they passed the Natural History Museum.

"You always loved the stars," Clay replied in agreement.

"True. I'm fascinated by it all. To think that somewhere the atoms that make up me and you and everyone were formed all together in a star that died and then we were born, it's somehow miraculous," Hannah said with wonder, staring at the models of planets and stars. "I'm always fascinated to know how people learned about it. I ended up majoring in history, I had to take a ton of summer credits to switch and got to finish a year early. I wrote a my thesis on the history of science."

"I wondered how you had the masters already," Clay replied. "That's really awesome you found something you love."

"That's why I became a research librarian, I want to tell other people about science. They're setting up a special exhibit on the history of astronomy here sometime in the next few years. Think of that opportunity," she said, lost in her own world.

"Would you stay to do that?" Clay asked, breaking Hannah's reverie. Hannah looked at him sideways. Clay coughed and changed the subject. "Should we head into the park?"

* * *

Title is Happier by Ed Sheeran. Much Ed Sheeran was listened to writing this entire fanfic. My partner (and probably my cats) will be VERY happy when I stop listening to him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26. We are only dreaming and I'm only dreaming of you**

They lay in silence on the grass of the sheep's meadow, looking up at the stars.

"Have you been in love?" Clay asked, enbolded by the safety of the dark night. She looked at him, but couldn't see his face. "Since, I mean," he pressured on head long into the emotional abyss that was this night. She looked back up, silent and Clay knew he'd gone too far but then she spoke.

"A could of 'almost's," Hannah said, not making eye contact. "One, no two 'maybe's. The guy I was dating last year, he was a 'possibly' or a 'would be.'

"What happens," she said with a shrug. She looked at him in the eye as if expecting him to challenge her, inviting him to judge her though he was incapable of that. Clay was the first to look away. "Did you love her?"

"I don't know," Clay answered honestly. "I don't know if I did. I think I knew that and worse I think she did too. I didn't have the guts to break up with her; I guess that's my MO. She found a new guy right after me, a lawyer. They're engaged now." He thought about the invitation on his fridge.

"So, I feel like we still haven't addressed the elephant in the room," Hannah said changing the topic. Clay tensed, trying to prepare himself for one of the plethora of uncomfortable topics that she could bring up now that he'd opened the door. "You, Clay Jensen, have an ear piercing." Clay burst out laughing, so infectious Hannah couldn't help but join in. When they collected themselves, she asked, "What is the story behind that?"

"Three guesses as to the bad influence I got drunk with and the first two don't count," he replied, twisting the small stud earring in his left ear lobe.

"Ah Sara, the origin of many bad ideas," Hannah joked about her rigidly responsible friend.

"Basically a long day and night of drinking somehow turned into a late night heart to heart about how Mike and I were best grad school friends, a band of brothers and we would make it through together and we definitely needed to do something to mark that promise. I don't know how we decided a piercing was the best way to signify that."

"Ah, I see," she examined him closely in mock seriousness. "And you kept it?"

"I thought maybe it would make me a little more badass, or at least be a conversation starter. Also Mike would be hurt it I took it out."

"Very true, wrath of Mike," Hannah agreed. "Any other blatantly un-Clay-like behaviors I should know about? A secret tramp stamp?"

"Nope, thankfully the piercing is all," he replied. "What about you? Any secret tattoos?"

"Actually yea. I have the dippers and the north star marked on my back as well as a compass."

"When'd you get it?"

"End of that summer. A buddy of mine's sister was my tattoo artist. It's a reminder that I need to find my own way," she explained in answer to his unasked question.

"Dipper is the bear?"

"Yea, the dippers are asterisms in the bears."

"What's the story again?" Clay asked, grinning. She shook her head, her smile matching his.

"I think I've told you that one 100 times."

"I don't remember. Tell me about the stars," he said, repeating the phrase he has said so many times over their years together.

"How can I as a librarian resist someone seeking knowledge? So Callisto was a nymph of Artemis or Diana depending if we are doing Greek or Roman. She had a son with Zeus and Hera got jealous and turned Callisto into a bear so Zeus wouldn't look at her. The son tried to shoot Callisto but to prevent that he got turned into a bear too and then they were placed in the stars."

"Getting turned into an animal or plant really is the 'and then I found ten dollars' of Greco-Roman mythology," Clay observed, making Hannah grin. They stared at each other for a while, both surprised by the ease of their conversation after all these years and the way it ended. Hannah quickly turned her eyes back up, a blush spreading over her cheeks.

"I love the city. I love the lights and the people coming together to form constellations and galaxies," Hannah observed.

"But you can only see the brightest stars," Clay said absently, reading her sadness at not seeing all the beautiful stars as they had before.

"But you can only see the brightest stars," she echoed. She examined him carefully while he examined the stars. "We never did make it to the aurora."

"No," he agreed, sadness creeping into his voice. "We never made it to the aurora." She stared back into the night sky, a beautiful combination of the stars and the city lights. Somehow in this space, both looking at the vastness, the darkness and lights enveloped them. It felt like a moment out of time, but then again this whole night did. "We still could."

"Clay…" Hannah said sadly, she opened her mouth to say who knows what when an alarm went off on her phone. She sat up quickly in a panic. "Jesus, I didn't realize how fucking late it is. I completely lost track of time. I should really get back and get my shit in order before my flight." She stood quickly before offering a hand to Clay and pulling him to standing. "I'll sleep on the plane."

;

"What are your stories about?" Clay asked as they made their way back to Broadway.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Just the stars, the city, a girl, madness and the nature of existence. They tell you to write what you know." An uncomfortable silence fell despite her lighthearted tone. "Go ahead and ask it."

"Am I in it?"

"Wow, you actually asked it."

"Well am I?"

"Yes and no," Hannah said carefully. "There is no one who is you but there are...echoes...echoes of you. How you were, how you made me feel." The walked the rest of the block, reaching the corner before Hannah said, "You remember that day? When you gave me a ride on your bike?" Clay nodded. She looked away. "They, um. They tell you to write what you know. I have spent all the years since trying to describe how precious to me that moment was. That was the happiest moment of my life." She crossed the street quickly as the light turned, leaving him stranded on the other side. She waited for him to join her when the light changed again.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?" Clay asked, emboldened by her admission.

"No." Hannah paused. "I used to. It took me a long time to stop being angry. I used to be so mad at you and at everyone and at the world for messing me up. I was mad at myself. Now? No, not anymore. You didn't save me, Clay, but you helped me learn I can't wait for someone else to save me. I'm not a damsel in distress, stuck in a tower. I need to save myself."

* * *

Title is Song 6 by George Ezra. "Getting turned into an animal or plant really is the 'and then I found ten dollars' of Greco-Roman mythology," is pretty much stolen verbatim from my partner.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27. I'm gone, so long, see you soon. Up, Up and away like a rising balloon**

Their train ride was all too short, Clay couldn't recall what they spoke about or if they spoke or if they just stood there, on the precipie of 'what if's and 'it only's. Clay's heart sank as the train slowed as it reached the 96th street station where she would transfer to a train to the Bronx. In a morning a taxi would take her to a plane which would take every further away just as he'd found her again. She would be a world away and he would be back in reality after this night out of time.

His mind instantly flooded with all the things he wanted to say. There were too many words, but no more time. As the doors opened Hannah kissed him, soft and tender, like the first real time when her hair glowed like a halo in the street light. Swiftly, she drew back and stepped out of the car, the doors closing behind her, too fast for Clay to register. He saw her turn and start toward the stairs.

He stood there, unable to contemplate a next when the feeling of her lips lingered. He turned and leaned against the doors, riding the next few stops in silence and wondering what would have happened had he followed her, held the door and ran out after her. What would be have said? 'Go!' 'Please stay!' "follow your dream!' 'How could you leave me again?' 'Why? Why would you do that to me?' 'Maybe this time it'll work.' 'Do you still love me? After all this time?' Questions haunted his steps as he shuffled up the stairs of his walk up.

Clay looked at his phone, picking it up to punch in his code and to type, to type what exactly he didn't know. He put it down before he could what must have been a thousand times. He studied the black mirror of his phone, his own face reflecting back at him.

~Fin~

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End notes agenda: Thank you! Things to think about! Commentary on me!

THANK YOU! First of all, HUGE thank you to all the people who took the time to read, to favorite/follow and to comment, especially repeat commentators musicluver21, guest (a very prolific commentator), RosalieBrandstetter, Zivaandncisforever, wordsfromthefeatherquill, vilana81, fantasydreamer37, misskittyqueen, byefelicia, EmmaBloomfan22 and Boris Yeltsin who must have commented on every single chapter. I wrote this for myself it really crazy to see that other people wanted to read my scribbles.

I discovered that as the author you can see countries of readers aggregated and it is INSANE that people from other parts of the world are reading these words. Craziness. Thank you for reading; it kept me writing. I will try to reply to ask many comments as possible.

;

A couple of things to think about:

-Are Clay and Hannah going to get back together? She's going to Scotland for a year and he's a graduate student. It's rather hard to just pick and leave in the middle of a phd.

-A more important question is SHOULD Hannah and Clay get back together? Have they both changed enough? Will they fall back into old patterns (i.e. Hannah being passive and Clay being obsessively protective) or have they moved passed that? How would their relationship be different as adults?

-Every work of art, from a child's drawing to Moby Dick, has a thesis. I had two main ones with several sub theses. What did you think about them?

;

Commentary on me:

So Clay's tape felt, to me, the most real. It's people not noticing that you're not ok. From a rational point of view it makes a whole lot of sense that they didn't because they too have lives and concerns and inner dialogue. That's why it struck home. So I decided to play an "if/then" game. If Clay had stayed, then they would have been in the room when Jessica/Justin entered. If they had been there, then Hannah would have wanted to take care of Jess (canon that she has done this on previous occasions), then Justin would have gotten angry, then Clay would have stayed, then Hannah wouldn't have distracted Sheri, then stop sign would be up, then Jeff would have seen the sign, ALSO, then Hannah and Clay would likely have dated. Ok, so if we say Hannah and Clay are dating, what next? I presumed Hannah still has a mental illness so how would that affect their relationship? For me, the logical conclusion was that they would eventually self destruct. Large portions of the fight and then subsequent meeting as adults were written right after chapters 1 and 2. I was interested in exploring how they would have changed as adults. It was also important to me that the ending was open ended.

This really started as "this is bothering me" and "I want to write about how it really is to be mentally ill" and it became a really crazy therapeutic thing. I've never really written about what's happened to me (and I always hate when movies get hospitalization wrong) and I realized it is much harder to write fiction about it than biography. It is hard writing your experiences for someone with a completely different personality. Hannah is a fairly cooperative patient whereas I am a psychiatrist's nightmare because I am a know-it-all smart alec who thinks I know better.

Per my google doc which does not have my copious author's notes, I have written ~34k words and a total of 61 pages. That is longer than any thesis paper I've ever written.

This was initially going to be atonement-esque where at the end we realize Tony wrote a book or something to atone for not saving her and that yes, everything in the series happened. I quickly realized Tony wouldn't do that; he just isn't a writer. It occurred to me as I was writing chapter 19 that maybe a kid/grandkid of his would potentially write this to allow Tony to get his atonement for not saving her but I was too far in already. Also it would require me to finish the show. If someone wants to write that fic, I would love to read it.


	28. Chapter 28: epilogue

Epilogue: I'm with the lover of my soul

Tony glanced up from where he'd been staring at the "AMBULANCE PARKING ONLY" sign to see the white security guard inside the waiting room was staring at him again. Tony waved and smiled mockingly.

"Yup, just another brown dude, you racist dick," Tony muttered to himself. The guard turned and called to someone Tony couldn't see. Jorge came into view and waved at Tony. Crap, now he was going to come out and Tony would have to make small talk.

"Hey Tony, why you loitering outside?" Jorge asked. "Come in! I brought some of Pietro's oatmeal cookies to work today." Tony liked Jorge a lot in fact. He maintained the security guard's wreck of a car at a steep discounted and attempted to avoid Jorge's husband's cooking at all costs.

"I'm ok, man. Fresh air is good for me."

"They had a code blue just before end of shift. That's probably what's holding him up," Jorge offered. Tony nodded, waiting for the other man to disappear back inside. "Sorry about that," Jorge said half heartedly. He looked back at the white guard inside who was watching them like a hawk and shrugged as if to say, 'Racists, what were you gonna do?' Tony nodded. Fact of life of existing while brown. "See ya Tony." Tony nodded and examined his nails.

The problem with quitting smoking was not having anything to do with his hands. He did have a pack of months old Parliaments wedged under the seat of his car, the consequence of sending Hannah to buy him a pack, and he refused to buy a new pack until he finished that one. Stale Parliaments weren't exactly appealing.

If he didn't get going soon he wouldn't have time to shower the engine grease off before his gig but he couldn't leave just yet after having driven all the way here so instead Tony turned his mind to issues at hand. Tony contemplated the playlist for tonight, trying to decide if he was ready to commit to it or if he wanted to change out that new Jonas whatever song everyone liked even though he thought it was painful. He considered his mustang that he was still babying along and if it was more trouble than it was worth. He considered his sister, now in LA to become an actress. He didn't like her so far away, but what were you going to do? It was her life and he couldn't exactly move there to protect her as much as his mother would like him to. Tony almost missed the doors opening and his love stepping out.

"Hey handsome," he said to the exhausted Brad who gaped at him open mouthed. Tony had decided on a whim to pick Brad up from the hospital today. It was day three of twelve hour emergency room shifts. Some of Brad's nights were quiet, just people who needed a bandaid or to sit in a room while they sobered up. Some nights were shit shows, like the past few had been, making Brad cranky and impossible to live with. Tony had learned to roll with Brad's grumpiness, knowing a day off would wash it away.

It was funny how life worked. Brad was always going to be temporary, until he wasn't and so Tony had stayed instead of driving away into the sunset like he'd always planned. But he'd rather be with Brad here than elsewhere without him.

"What are you doing here?" Brad asked, still shell shocked from his obviously difficult shift.

"Picking you up. Not about to let you spend 45 minutes on the bus," Tony replied.

"Aren't you working tonight?" Brad said incredulously. Tony shrugged in response. Brad glanced at the racist security guard and kissed Tony. Neither were usually into PDA, but in this case Tony fully approved. They started toward the mustang. "I hate that guy. He started two weeks ago and he drives us all insane. Refused to believe Felicia was a doctor."

"I heard today was crazy," Tony remarked as they got into the car. He hadn't talked to Brad for three days despite sleeping in the same bed. It had been better since Brad had been promoted off the night shift but at the end of the day Brad could only scarf down food and sleep. Tony supported Brad's dream of being a nurse, but damn did it take a lot out of them as a couple.

"You don't even want to know. This one lady gave birth in the elevator as I was bringing her to L&D and then we had a code blue at the end of shift. Not my patient but I was next door so I had to start compressions. I'm so fucking exhausted," Brad commented. He then rolled down the window. "You smell horrible. Are you going to have time to shower? You shouldn't have picked me up."

"Haven't seen you," Tony replied with a smile.

"I'm coming tonight," Brad asserted. "Quick nap while you shower and then promise you'll wake me up?" Tony glanced at the clock on the dashboard. At this point, he barely had time to drop Brad at home, let alone shower. Tony was saved by his phone ping. Brad examined it. "Who is it?"

"Hannah," Brad replied before his own phone vibrated. "Hannah just texted to say she got to her place in Scotland ok. She also has a story to tell us," Brad said, looking at his phone.

"Probably like the time she thought she saw a Hemsworth at Starbucks," Tony commented. Hannah had been traveling to see family in Australia and sent them pictures she had creepily snapped. A quick examination from Brad had revealed the man was in fact not a celebrity.

"She says this is better than when she found twenty dollars on the subway," Brad continued reading with a smirk.

"That's a rather low bar."

"Hey, she talked about that for a week."

"She's definitely in the right profession as a writer."

They rode in silence. At this point, their relationship was defined as much by silences as conversations. They communicated as much by glances and touches as they did by words. Content to just be and exist together. People often said for better or worse but Tony thought it was more the middle, the every day, the 'we're out of toilet paper, can you pick some up on your way home?" Or Tony picking Brad up from the hospital when his nursing shifts went long. Or Brad coming to Tony's gigs even if he feel asleep in his chair. Brad apparently was thinking the same thing. He smiled and put his hand over Tony's on the shift. It was night and the only illumination was from street lights, but regardless, they drove off into the sunset.

* * *

This chapter came out as a brain fart while I was waiting in the Shakespeare line. So main question/comment was "Am I going to write more?" specifically in 13 reasons. Answer is unlikely. It would require me to re-watch the series and that was fairly traumatizing the first time around.

Thank you thank you!

9veryoriginalname9 out.


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